Quod Oblitus Trivium
by Siblings Grimm
Summary: Long ago, the Force was divided. Torn asunder by righteous pride and passion for power. For eons the Galaxy has trembled as each fought for dominance, both doomed for destruction. The chosen one, destined to bring balance, failed. With the Galaxy on the verge of self destruction, another is chosen. Ripped from the world he knows, Harry must fight to survive.
1. Prologue - Updated

**Disclaimer:** We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads. So don't sue me, sue Forge.

 *****Updated Feb.6 2017*****

 **Author's Note:**

Hello, everyone! I am Darth Vidicus, and that energetic non-bouncy one over there is Forge. Together, we are the Siblings Grimm. We are in fact siblings, I know *surprise!*, and as we are both separated due to college and life, we write as a way to do something together.

For the purpose of this story, we have created a website. I am a visual person, and sometimes it really helps to have a visual aid so that you can fully grasp the story the author is trying to weave. Also, for those of you who are less familiar with Star Wars or Harry Potter, we will be posting background information so that you can catch up and understand the content written here. Every chapter will have at least one post on our blog with accompanying information and pictures. We recommend that you begin reading the chapter then reference the accompanying blog post when and if needed (thus not to spoil anything in the chapter).

Please see our profile for further details.

Finally, we would like to thank some of those who have 'pioneered' this particular crossover and who have made some of the greater fanfics here. Specifically, we offer our thanks to Darth Marrs, plums, ffdrake, and Faykan. Great work ladies and gentlemen!

With no further adue, we give to you 'Quod Oblitus Trivium'

*Lights dim and curtains are drawn*

* * *

Rain fell over the English countryside as the heavy spring clouds hung grey and heavy in the overcast morning sky.

The wild grasses, common to the country, bent low as the water slowly dripped down their green stems.

A man, tall and lean, stood silently in the dismal morning air. His long hair hung in soaked ropes as water slowly trickled down his head and onto the thick heavy material of his cloak, keeping most of his clothes dry.

As time passed by, the small fauna of the country gradually began to resume their daily shuffle as the man's silent intrusion into their home became gradually forgotten, caution lost as he stood still and silent.

Before the man lay a thick white slab of stone, its surface drenched in the morning's downpour.

A name was carved into the stone there, a silent witness of times now past. The man's gaze held fast on those letters, neither moving or wavering.

With the slow and heavy movement of a falling tree, the man came crashing down to his knees. His face still and cold as a stone, not even a single tremor passed over his face. Raising his arm from where it clutched the soaked grass at his knees, he reached into his heavy cloak and withdrew a single flower. The rain hit the delicate petals, making it look as if the flower was covered in small twinkling lights.

It was a rather small flower as far as blossoms go. It was small and petite, looking fragile and delicate in the man's hand. The flowers petals were pure and radiant, somehow almost glowing in the dull morning light. After taking a moment to admire its simple beauty, the man placed it gently next to the name, his fingers pausing along the cold marble surface.

Below name and dates, an epitaph was written, a memorial of promises made. His eyes swept over the words, remembering the meaning that was given to them so long ago.

Finally, the man was ready to take his leave. Drawing himself in, and letting out a long slow breath, he rose to his feet. With one final glance behind him, the tall man walked quickly into the rolling countryside, leaving the white stone behind.

The words echoed in his mind. The words that she had once read to him, the words he himself etched into the cold stone.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

* * *

Pressing forward into the darkening twilight, the cold hung around her body like a thick fog. Moving through the dark terrain it slowly became evident that this was no natural chill. It crept slowly across her being, seeking out any hint of warmth, almost as if it had a will of its own.

She was getting closer.

Walking in the darkness she saw the twilight shroud of stars that smothered the sky like a thick blanket, hinting at the majesty and grandeur beyond. But there was no moon in the sky that night, and as such she could barely see the faint outline of her surroundings. Even with the light of the stars the rocky terrain around her was hidden and shadowed. It was dark enough that one should not be able to navigate the darkness as she was, but there was a force, a presence that she could feel, drawing her toward her destination. She could not turn away.

Trudging slowly through the darkness she tightened her grip on the straps of the small black satchel that hung at her side, reassuring herself that is was there. It would not due to loose it in this place of eternal night. Keeping one hand on the satchel she used her other hand to sweep her dark hair out of her eyes, trying in vain to better see through the twilight around her.

Stumbling and struggling through the darkness, she had a fair number of falls, but nothing would dissuade her from her course. Though the darkness was thick and overpowering, and the cold sapping her strength, in her core an intense hatred raged. And the flames of that anger pushed her onward.

This place was always dark, it never changed. As such she was not sure how long she had been traveling along her current path, she had been forced to abandon her transport some time ago. It had been many hours, maybe even days. She rested when she needed to, but never for long, for she could not escape the presence the continued to draw her nearer, to lead her closer.

After some time the ground began to slope downward and dark shapes began to rise up on either side of her. As she moved forward and the shapes drew nearer it became apparent that she had entered a crevice that was slowly deepening and narrowing to a point. And yet the power pulling her forward only increased. What she sought had to be down here, amongst the rocky crags.

As she reached the end of the ever narrowing ravine, there stood before her what appeared to by a towering rock wall. Reaching forward she began to feel her way along it. From end to end it seemed at least 4 meters long. And though too dark to see clearly, it seemed to be covered in patterns and text of ancient origin. Working her way toward the center her wandering hands found an opening, a square opening.

In the darkness, her sinister face broke into a wicked had found what she was looking for. Filled with exhilaration she opened her satchel, and as the flap fell open a dim, maroon light filled the darkness around her. Reaching into the satchel she drew out a red pyramid, covered in black linear designs that matched those on the wall before her. And in a moment she had inserted the pyramid, point first, into the opening.

With a dull thud and a sudden burst of air, a seam appeared above and below the opening. Removing the pyramid she backed away from the wall, waiting for what would come next. No sooner had she done that, the wall made double doorway began to slowly and ponderously swing outward, revealing the inky blackness within.

As the doors swung open, the cold that had followed her and drawn her to this point rolled forth from the darkness like a heavy ocean tide. What had been a pervasive chill became a bone-freezing presence that weighed down on her very being.

Cautiously, the artifact in hand, she pressed forward into the darkness that quickly engulfed her.

After a few moments, red lights flickered on along the base of a wide metal catwalk that extended into the corridor before her, the edges of which gave way to a deep chasm. The passage stretched on for some time, but she pressed forward undaunted. At the end of the passage, she was again met with a doorway. But instead of the heavy stone doorway at the entrance, she was presented with what appeared equally large metal door.

With no slot on the door, or on the wall beside it, she waited. And not long after she arrived at the door, the doors began to retract, with a slow hiss, exposing the dark chamber beyond. Without a hesitation, she walked forward into the awaiting chamber.

Immediately upon entering, a low thump sounded above her, and a bank of lights that extended far to the left and right turned on, exposing what appeared to be a cavernous chamber. Before her, now revealed in the light were rows and rows of metal slabs.

Separating the rows of slabs a broad path extended further into the chamber. Before she began down the path she took a moment to examine the strange metal slabs.

Drawing closer she began to realize that they weren't just slabs, they were soldiers. Dawned in full battle armor, these soldiers were entombed in solid metal. With another thump, a second bank of lights exposed an identical series of soldiers. This was followed by another thud, and another, and another. As the banks of lights continued on further and further down the chamber, the light exposed, thousands if not millions of soldiers.

Then, as she stood marveling at what she had discovered, with one final thud a bright red light turned on in the middle of the path, exposing a towering statue of a figure in a hooded cloak, a drawn saber before him.

Filled with awe and an overpowering sense of ancient power, she walked down the long path passing by the countess entombed soldiers.

And there, before the imposing statue stood a desolate slab. But this one was not the same as all of the others. It did not contain a soldier covered in armor. No, this man was taller, broad in the shoulders, and looked as if he could crush her between his hands. This was the man of the statue, he was the commander of this army, he was the Lord of this dark place. He is what drew her to that place.

She noticed that on the side of the slab a slowly flashing green light… he was alive!

And with that discovery, she was filled with an intense, overpowering feeling of victory and triumph. She would show those who had wronged her the true meaning of power. And she would have her revenge.

All that remained was awakening this man before her. Glancing around she found a stone plinth a meter or so in front of the man, the top of which had a shallow, square indent. The perfect size for the artifact.

Approaching it, she reached forth she placed the small red pyramid on the plinth, it fit perfectly and seamlessly.

Immediately after she let go of the artifact it began to increase in brightness, and suddenly along each of the sides, a shining red line extended from the artifact to the base of the plinth. But, the line facing the man did not stop there but raced along the floor to the base of his metal resting place. As soon as it reached it, colored lights and displays lit up as if they had never been off and the green light began to flash at a steadily increasing rate.

As the light began to flash faster and faster, she started to hear a sort of sizzling noise as the metal surrounding the man began to glow a cherry red. Growing brighter and brighter the metal began to turn white and then fade away, exposing the form of the man behind it.

Approaching the awakening man the remainder of the metal quickly dissolved away, revealing the man's full and imposing figure. His skin was a dark grey, and though taught and strong, had the appearance of faded parchment. Dark veins webbed his forehead and a respirator covered his mouth and lower jaw. He was dressed in metallic battle armor that covered his whole form. His very presence emanated power and demanded respect.

For a moment, he stood there, frozen and unmoving, causing her to wonder for just a moment if he had somehow died in the process. But as he suddenly fell to a knee and drew in a long, deep mechanical breath, those thoughts were banished from her mind.

Kneeling on the floor he struggled through his first few breaths, maintaining his composure when he most surely was experiencing great pain. And then, with a deep breath, he spoke in a raspy voice that somehow echoed with dark power.

"After millennia…. I have returned."

As he spoke, he looked up, and with pupils encompassed in a corona of burning orange light, he fixed her dead in the eye.

And thousands of light years away, Harry Potter bolted awake, still seeing in his mind the burning anger behind those bright orange eyes.

* * *

As soon as Harry had gathered his composure, he silently slipped out of his room and down the hall to the toilet. Turning on the faucet he splashed his face a few times with the cold water before drying it off with the hand towel. Looking up into the mirror, Harry's gaze was met with familiar green eyes. Though the eyes were his own, he could not help but remember the intensity of the flaming orange eyes he had seen in his dream.

Was it a dream?

He wasn't really sure. How many other times had he had dreams like this?

Slumping down onto the Dursley's fancy toilet seat covering, Harry tried to recall all the nightmares he had experienced over the last few months. Since the end of the tri-wizard tournament, and Voldemort's resurrection, nightmares had been unfortunately much too common.

Harry sighed as he ran his hand through his messy black hair. He had seen Cedric die once, that was more than enough for him. But his dreams seemed not agree with him, as Cedric's face had become almost a normal sight for Harry during the wee hours of the night. And as much as he hated his nightmares, and oh did he hate them, there were nights where he would have a nightmare that was… different. Much like the dream he had had of Voldemort and the poor groundskeeper before last year's Quidditch World Cup, some of his dreams were more real, more… alive.

Fortunately, they weren't that common, but they were far more disturbing than his normal nightmares. Flashes of darkness and silver masks, figures pleading for mercy, the cries of tortured souls. He could only assume that they came from Voldemort.

He wished he could talk to somebody about it, Dumbledore, Sirius, or his friends. But with how cryptic and evasive Dumbledore had been in what little communication they had, he wasn't exactly feeling fond toward the Professor at the moment. With Sirius, Harry didn't know what was going on with him. He was always supportive and lent a listening ear, but with the ministry on the prowl since the end of term, his communication with Sirius had been greatly reduced.

His friends hadn't exactly been much better either. Ron had gone secretive soon after they got back, apparently, the Weasley's weren't living at the Burrow at the moment. Then Hermione had gone to stay with them, wherever that was, she then too quickly stopped writing Harry as much. When she did write him, she kept her letters vague and asked more questions about his holiday then answering his questions about hers, she would always tell him that it was for the best, that he would know more soon.

For the best! He was the one who had nearly been killed when Voldemort returned from the dead, the one who had to bring Cedric's body back to Hogwarts. Why were they keeping secrets from him?

In frustration, he slammed his fist down on the sink, and in the process, accidentally knocked down the Dursley's toothbrush holder, causing a loud clattering noise as it hit the floor. Not a moment later Uncle Vernon had pounded his way down the hall and threw the toilet door open.

"What in the BLAZES are you doing up at this hour boy?! Banging things around and making a racket, up to some of your weird little tricks?!"

Scrambling to pick up the brushes and the holder, Harry quickly explained. "No Uncle Vernon, I swear I was just going to use the toilet when I accidentally knocked the holder down!"

"Ruddy lies those are! What are you doing going to the toilet with your trousers up and the seat cover down?!"

Realizing he had been caught Harry quickly backed up and tried the truth. "Okay, I wasn't going to the toilet, I just had a nightmare, I needed a place to think!"

Twisting his fat face into a mocking expression, Uncle Vernon was quick to come up with a retort. "Huh, had a nightmare, did you? Serves you bloody right for dealing with all the freakishness like you do! Maybe it will teach you a lesson." Backing away from the door and gesturing toward Harry's room Uncle Vernon finished his piece "And for further notice, the wash closet is not a place for you to be crying about your problems! Now get out of here and get to your ruddy room!"

Not hesitating a moment Harry slipped out and returned to his room, trying to suppress rebellious thoughts of slipping some of the twins nugget into his Uncle's morning eggs.

Back in his room, Harry thought back on the dream he had and tried to compare it to some of the others he had had. It was different. Though his dreams had followed people and events at times, there was something distinctly different about this dream. And who was that man? Some potential ally of Voldemort's perhaps? An ancient enemy long lost to the world? Whatever was going on and whoever he was, Harry couldn't escape the feeling that it spelled danger and destruction in in the years to come.

Settling into his bed, Harry let the events of the night fade from the forefront of his mind, and soon after, Harry drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Watching from the darkness, a presence stood in the shadows of Harry's room. Though perhaps hovered would be a more proper term.

Chuckling to himself as he watched Harry drift off to sleep none the wiser The presence reflected on Harry's final sleepy thoughts. Harry did not know how very right, and how very wrong he was.

Slowly withdrawing from Harry's room and the house of number four Privet Drive, the wraith-like entity gave one last look before speeding off to its physical body, knowing full well that this would probably be the last normal night of Harry's life.


	2. Chapter 1 - Updated

**Disclaimer:** We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.

 *****Updated Feb.6 2017*****

 **Authors Note:** Thank you so much to all of you that read our story, we hope that you have enjoyed it so far. Also, thank you for all of you that reviewed and favorited/followed this story. If you have any comments or questions please feel free to leave them in a review, PM us or leave us a comment on our website.

* * *

At number four Privet drive, in the smallest bedroom, a scrawny waif of a boy sat on an old rickety excuse of a chair in front of what could hardly be considered a desk. In the weeks following the end of term, he had taken on the pinched, gangly appearance that adorned the majority of teens his age. His thin physique only appeared more twig like when you considered the far oversized clothes that hung on his frame, giving the poor boy the appearance of marionette doll dressed in clothes two sizes too big.

In a vain attempt to stave off the ever impending boredom of life in privet drive, Harry Potter had begun to the attempt of working through the assigned readings of his potions text. Within the first week of life back with his relatives, if you could call them that, he had read through and completed nearly all of his holiday assignments, leaving the dreaded subject of potions for last.

It was not due to a sudden surge of Hermione like dedication, but rather, the agonizing stretch of absolute boredom. In the years that Harry had attended Hogwarts, the Dursleys had gone through several phases of responses and had now settled on doing their best to ignore him.

But even now, after living through the dullness that always accompanied the Dursley's home, Harry couldn't quite bring himself to focus on his self-assigned task. For as important as Snape demanded that potions were, he couldn't bring himself to concentrate.

Another day stuck in this cursed house and still no word. Not from Ron, or Hermione. Sure Hedwig brought him notes and what some would consider letters, saying how they are all doing well. But no real news, and no real information about their lives, not really. Not the kind of information Harry was dying to hear.

Looking down he tried again to read the assigned passage in his potions text. His eyes skimmed over dull paragraphs on the correct methods of stirring, the differences between cutting and dicing dandelion root, and the forever legendary meaning behind the thicknesses of cauldron bottoms. Harry sniggered, figuring that Percy would have much appreciated these paragraphs.

After a few moments of reading, he knew that his efforts were in vain. Closing the book he glanced over at the latest copy of the daily prophet. He had ordered a subscription to the paper and it had become evident that he had wasted his galleons. Much to Uncle Vernon's dismay the Prophet's owls brought the paper on a regular basis, and it had not published even one story that had anything to do with Voldemort.

Surely if the Ministry believed and accepted that he was back then it would be on the front news. But not one word. The stack of unread papers by the door grew with each passing day. And as they grew, so did his frustration. He had hoped and even expected Voldemort's return to be the number one story.

But even if the Prophet was being its usual rag of a paper he expected better from his best mates! Surely he should have been hearing news or at least support from them! Unfortunately, Sirius' notes were not much better. Sure he was at least supportive and understanding, telling him that "I would be as frustrated as you are, just hang in there and keep out of trouble."

His friend's notes gave him trivial details of their summer: how they wish they could tell him what was going on with "you-know-what", that "we've been told not to say much in case our letters go astray…", telling him to mind his p's and q's and to not do anything rash that would make the Ministry more watchful then they already were. But their notes told of nothing that had to do with Voldemort, just promises that "we'll tell you everything when we see you."

Starting to really feel frustrated he stood up and began to pace his room. He knew that he shouldn't let himself get frustrated like this, but how could he help it? They knew what he had gone through and what he had seen. How could they all just sit there and let him stay cooped up in the Dursley's after blasted Voldemort had just RISEN FROM THE DEAD! What really grated against him was that whatever was going on they apparently knew what was going on, but couldn't say a darn thing. Where was Voldemort, what was he planning; questions that he wish could be answered.

Didn't Dumbledore realize that ignoring him and his questions only made it worse? That it would only put him more on edge? Added on top of that, the stress of not knowing whether he was being watched did not help with the nightmares.

The nightmares are getting worse. Nearly every time he closed his eyes he could see Cedric's body falling to the ground, the light and life leaving his eyes. Some nights it would only be a blur of images. On the bad nights, he recalled every detail of the night: how the sweat that dripped down his back turned cold when he found himself in the cemetery from his dreams, or the rasping voice from the black blankets ordering Cedric's execution. Worst of all was the sound of his body landing next to Harry with a sickening lifeless thud, the light having already left this eyes and his facial features never laxing, as if the last seconds of his life were forever etched on his face. He would awake with his scar burning, sending bolts of pain through his skull. Rubbing the scar always used to help ease the pain, now it only seemed to make it worse.

Last night was one of the bad nights; Voldemort ordering him to bow before him while the jeering death eaters laughed at the humiliation that was forced upon him. His father's face and his mother's voice calling out to him telling him to run while he still had a chance. Grabbing Cedric's frozen hand before quickly grabbing the cup and being thrown back into the cheers turned horrified cries of the crowd back at Hogwarts. It was only the alarm that he had set to wake him up at five, to get the morning owl, that had awoken him from the nightmare.

And on top of all of that, there was the haunting memory of the man with the burning amber eyes. It had been a week from the day that he had awoken it a cold sweat. He tried not to think about it much, but he couldn't escape the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

Deciding that he had spent long enough cooped up in his little room, Harry headed downstairs to try and grab a quick bite to eat. Biting into a sandwich he had thrown together, Harry thanked his luck that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had taken their precious Dudley out for lunch. He didn't usually get lucky enough to eat a large portion since a diet for Dudley meant that of course, Harry was on a diet as well.

Knowing that it wouldn't be long before the Dursley's were back, Harry removed the evidence of his lunch and went out front to position himself into his most recent hiding place. As news from the wizarding world had been less than helpful, he had taken the habit of trying to overhear the afternoon news when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would turn on the Telly during their afternoon tea. It was needless to say that they were less than happy when Harry had tried to just sit down and listen to the news like any normal person. According to Uncle Vernon when he tried to do something 'normal' he was still being decidedly freakish and odd.

Having slipped under the drying and dying hydrangea bush in front of the front window, Harry contented himself to wait for the return of his beloved family. Fortunately, it was not too long before he heard Uncle Vernon's car pulling up the driveway. As Vernon busied himself with putting the car into the garage Harry heard Dudley say some nonsense about heading off to have tea at his friend's Piers's house. It never ceased to confound him how Petunia and Vernon lapped up Dudley's ridiculous lies like milk from a dish.

What followed were several hours of listening to absolutely pointless news reports about airport bagger strikes, celebrity divorces and some bloke who had recently taken up waterskiing. Accompanied of course by the Dursley's constant critiques of everything they heard.

Eventually, Harry decided that if there was going to be any important news that they would have covered it far before they talked about some random waterskiing bloke. Being careful to maneuver himself without making a noise, he slowly lifted himself off the ground and began to crawl along the wall doing his best not to make a noise as he slipped between the dying hydrangeas and the wall.

Then, out of the silence, a loud and sudden crack sounded through the air, startling a cat in the shade of the Dursley's garage, and causing a loud crash of breaking china to sound from the Dursley's living room. Hearing the sudden noise Harry drew his wand and jumped up only to crack his head on the bottom of the open window, causing him to feel as if his head had been cleaved open.

As Harry was grasping his throbbing head, two sausage-like hands lunged from the open window and wrapped around his neck. And in a furious whisper that was only tempered by his uncle's desire to not draw attention, Vernon let out his fury. "Put that, that… BLASTED thing away!"

"How DARE you… you… do you know what here…. in the middle of the day!"

Struggling to remove his Uncles vice like sausages Harry gasped "Let… me… go!"

And as he was beginning to seriously worry about ever breathing again Harry felt his pain and anger burst forth, pushing his uncle's hands away from him and sending Harry staggering back into the dying hydrangea.

Panting and trying to regain his lost breath, Harry looked around searching for what might have caused the cracking noise. But he could find no evidence, just some of the Dursley's nosey neighbors peeking out behind windows and curtains.

Desperate to maintain the veil of normalcy Uncle Vernon shouted out to the neighbors, "Lovely evening! Did you folks hear that car backfire a minute back? Gave Petunia and I quite a turn!"

Maintaining what uncle Vernon must have thought was an inconspicuous smile, he waited until the neighbors of privet Drive had returned to their own business before he turned his barely concealed fury back on Harry.

"What the devil are you doing boy?!" Though hushed his voice clearly emanating the rage contained in his now purple face.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I wasn't doing anything!" He responded in a cool tone, still glancing around the street hoping to catch what had actually made the noise.

"You know very well what I mean boy! What are doing making a sound like a gun -"

"I didn't make that noise." He stated quickly, not willing to take any of Uncle Vernon's insinuations.

Breaking the moment of silence Aunt Petunia's bony frame squeezed next to Uncle Vernon's whale of a body. "What are you doing hiding behind my Hydrangeas? Why were you underneath the window?"

Not missing an opportunity to rail on Harry Uncle Vernon jumped on the opportunity. "Yes, good question Petunia. Why were you hiding under our window? Like some creeping criminal you are!"

"Listening to the news." He responded in a resigned voice.

Sharing an outraged expression with her husband Aunt Petunia responded, "Listening to the news! Again?"

This wasn't the first time they had caught Harry trying to listen in on the telly, and he could see suspicion flashing in his Uncle's eyes.

"What could you possibly want to hear the news for? It's not like your, your… your lot would ever be in OUR NEWS!"

In his rage, Vernon had forgotten the need to whisper about Harry's freakishness, and Petunia was quick to remind him. "Vernon…" her eyes darting about, "we can't let them hear…"

Uncle Vernon again lowered his voice, "Right… sorry Petunia." And then turning back to Harry "Don't lie to me boy! What are all of those… owls doing if not bringing you news!?"

With that Vernon grinned triumphantly, "Ha! Get out of that boy!"

Doing his best to reign in his anger for his uncle, Harry responded evenly. "The owls aren't bringing me the news. Not real news anyway…"

Petunia snapped out "I don't believe you."

Vernon was quick to follow, "I don't either boy, I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not going to let you keep sneaking around like the freak you are!"

With that, Harry was done. "Fine, you don't have to." Maneuvering around the bushes Harry turned and walked across the lawn, stepping over the short wall that encompassed the Dursley's yard.

He knew he was in trouble now, there had only ever been a few times that he had walked away from an argument with the Dursleys, so when he came back he knew he was going be in for it.

Now thoroughly frustrated and annoyed, his emotions not being helped at all by the late afternoon sun, Harry's feet began to automatically take the path that would lead him to one of his frequent haunts.

* * *

Before too long Harry found himself in a park he had often frequented when he was younger. Vaulting over the low chain linked fence that surrounded the park, he walked over to the only swing that Dudley and his gang had not yet broken. Sinking onto the seat, he wrapped his arms around the chains and swung slowly back and forth. The sun had lowered on the horizon and the nearby trees cast a shade that was pleasant after the beating heat of the day.

He thought back on the sharp crack he had heard back on privet drive. It wasn't the sound of a car backfiring, it had sounded magical, like the sound of apparition. Why would someone be apparating in Privet Drive? Surely there could only be a few reasons, and in the end, he was sure they all came back to him. But, perhaps he was so desperate for any word or sign from the magical community that he only perceived it to be magical. Maybe it was just a stupid old car anyways. Harry glanced around at the neighborhood park, today being one of the hottest days of the holiday, it sat desolate. Children and their parents seeking the cool of their houses or the shops in town.

As Harry swung slowly on the swing, replaying one of his most recent nightmares. It was not a memory from that night in the graveyard, it was certainly something else. He had been walking down a dark stone corridor slowly moving to a black door at the end. The closer he got the closer it seemed to actually be.

What did it mean? Was he heading down some dark point in his life? Or was it some divination rubbage that meant he needed to be wary of dark stone corridors? Pondering on this, Harry absentmindedly fingered a small gold chain which hung around his neck. Before he had returned to the Dursleys, Dumbledore had taken him aside and given him what had looked something like a golden muggle push pen attached to a linked necklace. Seeing no reason that Dumbledore would give him a pen he had looked closer and found that the device had a clear center, in which there appeared to be a very small glass vial containing a few grains of sand.

When he had looked quizzically at Dumbledore he had said that it was a time turner that he had built when he was younger. Dumbledore told him that it could only be used once and that it would take him exactly one hour back in time, a precaution against emergency, "To be used in a time of great need." Apparently, when he was younger, Dumbledore had hoped to produce them and sell them to the general public. But the difficulty in producing one caused him to scrap the idea. And with Voldemort doing who knows what and no news from anyone, and the strange sound from earlier, it brought him a small amount of comfort and security.

As he sat pondering, he heard voices nearing the park.

Looking up, the sky had faded to dusk, the lights above the street now casting soft glows of yellow light on the sidewalk. Dudley and his gang were heading home, the faint sound of ticking accompanied them as they pushed along their expensive racing bikes. Harry didn't doubt that they had probably just beaten up another twelve years old who might have looked at Dudley the wrong way. He watched as they grew near, wondering if they were going to see him. Part of him really hoped they would, there was nothing quite as soothing to the nerves as hinting to Dudley that he might use you-know-what while his gang stood around wondering why Dudley didn't beat Harry into the ground like he used to. But unfortunately, they didn't seem to notice him and continued to walk their bikes down Magnolia Road.

As he watched Dudley's gang continue down the street he realized that it was time for him to start heading back, knowing that if he stayed out any longer he would get an earful from Aunt Petunia demanding to know if he had been out practicing you-know-what. Apparently, coming back anytime after precious Duddikins was far too late. So harry slipped off the swing and began to follow Dudley and his gang as they strolled down the street.

Walking along the darkened path he drew nearer to the gaggle of boys but stayed far enough away not to be seen. Their voices became a bit louder, allowing Harry to overhear their conversation.

"..squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcolm, one of Dudley's friends jeered to the others.

"Yeah, nice right hook Big D!" Another one of his friends, Piers, complemented.

"Same time tomorrow?" Dudley said.

"Round my place this time, parents are out," said the last who was much shorter than the rest, Gordon.

"See ya then," said Dudley

Courses of "See ya later D" rang through the street as the others headed down their respective streets.

For a minute Harry followed silently behind Dudley, waiting for his friends to fall out of sight. As Dudley turned the corner into Magnolia Crescent, Harry walked faster until he was in Dudley's hearing distance.

"Hey, Big D!" Harry called out. He turned expecting to see one of his friends, but when he realized it was Harry his face turned to an ugly scowl.

"Oh, it's you." He grunted.

"How long have you been Big D then?" Harry said

"Shut it," snarled Dudley, turning away in effort to ignore him.

"It's a cool name," Harry shot back as he started to walk beside his whale of a cousin.

"But you will always be Ickle Diddykins to me." He jided.

"Shut it, I MEAN it!" Dudley snarled, his ham-like hands curled into fists. Harry walked faster, catching up to him.

"Do your pals know that's what your mum calls you?"

"Shut your face"

"You don't tell her to shut her face when she calls you that. How about 'popkin' and 'dinky diddydums', can I call you those too? I just don't think that Big D really suits you."

He didn't say anything to him. It seemed to be taking all of his self-control not to lash out and strike Harry. He knew that Dudley was still frightened of Harry using his magic on him, he had been since that incident with hagrid. Always muttering something about pig tails and giants whenever he saw his wand. With all that he couldn't control in his life, Harry relished these moments when he could torment his cousin without reprisal from his aunt and uncle. The fat whale deserved it after what he did to other kids on a regular basis.

"So what have you been up to tonight, beating up another twelve year old? I know you beat up Mark Evans a few nights ago..."

"He was askin for it," Dudley spit back

"Oh yeah?"

"He cheeked me."

"What, did he tell you that you look like a pig that has been taught to walk on its hind legs? 'Cause that's not cheek Dud, that's true."

A muscle twitched in Dudley's jaw, and it gave Harry enormous satisfaction to know how furious he was making Dudley; doing so was one of the only ways of shedding his stress that he had been able to find.

Dudley turned down a narrow alley that connected Magnolia Crescent to Wisteria Walk, it was down this alleyway where he had first seen Sirius. It seemed to have been so long ago.

The alleyway was absent of the streetlights that evenly covered the main drives of the community, and was thus much darker than the streets behind them. As they walked, their footsteps were muffled by the sounds of crickets that were so common this time of year.

"Think you're a big man carrying that don't you?" Dudley said after a few moments.

"What?"

"That-that thing you're hiding!" At that, Harry couldn't conceal his grin.

"Not as stupid as you look, are you, Dud? But then again if you were, I suppose that you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time, now would you?"

Harry pulled out his wand and gave it a good twirl. Dudley glared at him with the clear desire to hit him but was held back by his apparent fear.

"You're not allowed," Dudley said as soon as Harry twirled his wand. "Da' said you be expelled from that freak place of yours."

"How do you know that they haven't changed the rules, eh Big D?"

"They haven't" But he didn't look as quite convincing as he had hoped to be. Harry laughed at this, Dudley had never been that good of a liar. Well, to anyone other than his parents that is.

"You don't have the nerves to try to take me on without that thing, do you?" Dudley snarled.

Harry was quick to throw back "Where you just need four of your pals behind you before you have the guts to beat up a wee little ten-year-old. How bout' that boxing title you keep goin' on about? How old was the other kid? Eight? Nine?"

Dudley responded with barely contained fury.

"The bloke was sixteen and had held the title for the last two years! And when I was done with him he was out for a solid thirty minutes!" Then Dudley bit back "and he was nearly three times as heavy as you! And you just wait till I tell Dad you have that thing out-"

"Oh, running to Daddy, are we? Is Vernon's ickle diddykins frightened of nasty little Harry's wand?"

With a gleam in his eyes, Dudley threw down his trump card. "Not very brave at night, are you?"

Confused, Harry sarcastically retorted "Dud, I knew you were dense, but I didn't know you were blind to. This IS night."

"I mean when you're in bed" Dudley sneered back. Dudley had stopped walking, now clearly intent on their verbal battle.

"What do you mean I'm not brave when I'm in bed?" Harry stopped as well, completely nonplussed. "Do you think I'm young enough to be scared of the bogeyman or some codswallop like that?

"I heard you last night. And a few others besides." Dudley said breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep and moaning."

"What do you mean?" Harry said again, but he could feel a cold feeling starting to grow in the pit of his stomach. He had visited the graveyard last night in his dreams.

Dudley a cruel snort of laughter, clearly enjoying the moment. Then speaking in a high-pitched simpering voice, "Don't kill Cedric! Don't Kill Cedric! Who's Cedric… Your boyfriend?"

"I… you… you're lying!" Harry responded. But that cold feeling had developed into full on dread, he knew Dudley wasn't lying. How else could he know about Cedric?"

"Dad! Help me, Dad! He's going to kill me! Dad! Boo Hoo!"

"Shut up," harry said quietly, tightening his grip on his wand. "Shut up Dudley, I'm warning you!"

"Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He's killed Cedric Dad, Help me! He's going to- Don't point that THING at me!"

Dudley backed up into the alley wall as harry began to edge closer and closer to him. Filled with absolute fury Harry pointed his wand right at his heart. Fourteen years of hatred and resentment were suddenly bubbling at the surface of his mind and pounding through his veins. How much he wanted to give it to Dudley now… Maybe just a few jinx's, and then finish it off with a good pig's tail… let him waddle home, like the pig he is!

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled, cold fury biting in his voice, "Do you understand me!?"

"Put that thing away!"

"I said, do you understand me?!"

"Point that thing away from me!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME DUDLEY!"

"GET THAT BLOODY THING AWAY FROM -"

Then Dudley gave an odd strangled gasp, as though he had been dumped in an icy lake and was struggling for breath.

And as if a veil had been dropped, the night began to change. The moon and stars once shining brightly between the rooftops were suddenly lost in darkness, the yellow light from the street and houses suddenly sucked into a dark abyss- all light suddenly disappearing into a void of cold, inky blackness. The sound of distant cars and the calls of birds and insects that always accompanied nights like this suddenly extinguished. And the warm, balmy air of a summer night turned into a biting, frigid cold. Harry found himself surrounded by total and complete darkness.

For just a moment Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, like the time with aunt marge a few summers back. But as the cold crept across his body his mind won out over his senses. There was only one thing that could do something like this… He looked around desperately, trying in vain to see something in the darkness that was pressing closely upon him.

Dudley's terrified voice broke the silence, right next to Harry's ear.

"W-what are you d-doing? S-s-st-stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut it and don't move!" His anger with Dudley still palpable.

"I c-can't see! You-you've made me g-go b-b-blind! I-"

"I said SHUT UP! I haven't done anything."

Harry stood absolutely still, turning his sightless eyes back and forth. The cold was now so intense that he was shivering all over; goosebumps erupting up his arms and his hair standing on end… desperately he tried to open his eyes as wide as he could, uselessly searching the encompassing darkness.

Harry tried to remember the last time he had felt like this when he had felt this cold. Then he remembered, the last time he had felt like this was at the edge of the lake in the forbidden forest. The last time he had felt the happiness drain from him, his fingers prickling from the cold; was when he had seen Sirius's' soul being sucked out of him when he had thought he had lost the last piece of his family.

Dementors.

It couldn't be… it was absolutely impossible… they couldn't be here… not in Little Whinging. Harry strained his ears, he knew he would hear them before he could see them.

"I'll t-tell Dad! Dudley whimpered, "W-where are you? What are you d-do-?"

"Will you shut up already?" Harry hissed, "I'm trying to lis-"

But he suddenly fell silent. Through the absolute darkness, he had just heard what he had been dreading.

They were no longer alone, something was in the alley with them. Something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a terrifying bolt of dread shoot through his system.

"C-cut it out, Harry! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I-I w-will!"

"Dudley, will you SHUT-"

WHAM

Dudley's meaty fist made contact with the side of Harry's head, knocking him backward and sending him flying off his feet. Harry's vision was suddenly filled with small bright lights as he was sent spectacularly into the air. For the second blasted time of the day, Harry felt as if his very head had been cleaved in half; and in the next moment, he had landed on the ground, his wand flying out of his hand.

Groaning; pain shooting through his head, Harry managed to yell out "YOU BLOODY IDIOT, DUDLEY!"

His eyes watering with the pain as he scrambled to his knees, hands desperately feeling around for his wand. He heard Dudley running away, blindly blundering down the alley as he hit the fence.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

But too late. There was a horrible pig like squeal and Dudley's footsteps stopped. And at that moment Harry began to feel a frost like chill begin to creep up his back, and that could only mean one thing.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

Harry's hands were flying over the ground, desperately seeking his wand.

Not finding anything, Harry shouted "Lumos!" Saying it almost automatically, desperate for some light. And to his astonished relief, the tip of his wand lit up, just out of Harry's reach.

Knowing he was running out of time Harry lunged for the wand, hand stretched out seeking for the familiar warmth of his wand. As he slid forward and found his wand, he quickly turned on his back. And his stomach dropped.

There, not a pace and a half away, a towering, hooded figure, draped in ragged black robes, hung suspended in the air. Gray hands and sharp nails reaching toward him.

Scrambling backward Harry rose his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

A small, silver wisp of light slipped out of his wand, but it quickly dispersed before the advancing dementor. And as it continued to draw nearer, now in kicking range, his heart began to fill with panic as his mind began to fog.

"Expecto Patronum!" This time, not even a wisp emerged as his voice sounded hollow and distant. He couldn't do it, he couldn't work the spell!

Shrill laughter and green light began to fill his mind as a sickly grey hand gripped his left shoulder, and a black void began to descend towards his face.

"Bow to death, Harry… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died-"

He would never see Sirius again, he would never see his friends… Ron and Hermione…

But as their faces slipped into his mind he took a deep and struggling breath,

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

And with those words a gleaming silver stag leaped out of his wand; the Stag did not glance at Harry before it charged the dementor, its large antlers catching the Dementor head on, knocking it backward. With another powerful charge, the stag leaped forward, and sent the Dementor sweeping away, fleeing from the light of his Patronus.

Gasping for breath Harry struggled to his feet, adrenaline pounding through his veins. Realizing he couldn't hear Dudley, Harry looked desperately around, but couldn't see very far past the Patronus's silvery light.

Running forward, the Stag following by his side, Harry began to shout "DUDLEY? DUDLEY!"

He only had to run a few steps before he saw them. Not to far ahead of him the cloaked figure of a Dementor crouched low above Dudley's curled form. It's veiled head hovering over his cousin's face. As the dementor began to breathe in, the light around Dudley's face began to distort and move towards the dementors open mouth.

As he continued to run towards his prostate cousin, Harry turned towards his Patronus intending to send it to save his cousin. But as he diverted his attention from the path ahead of him, Harry's foot caught a loose rock and he was sent sprawling forward, his wand flying out of his hand. Sending his hands out desperately to catch his fall, he felt rocks cut into his hands and arms as he landed hard.

Looking up, Harry was filled with dread as he saw his holly wand roll to a stop at Dudley's side. And then he felt the encompassing cold crash down upon him once more as his Patronus faded into the night.

As Harry lay there, head pounding, arms and hands scraped and bruised, time seemed to slow and his mind screamed into speeds he had never felt before. As Harry began to pull himself up he caught a glimpse of gold hanging from his neck… the time turner!

Reaching into his shirt Harry gripped the pen-like time-turner and threw his gaze forwards. The light dilation around Dudley's face had become much more pronounced and a small, brilliant speck of light was beginning to emerge from his mouth.

With a sudden determination and courage that flowed from the very center of his being, Harry burst forward in that fastest sprint he could manage and dove forward, arms outstretched, time turner tightly clasped in his hand. For just a few blood pounding second, Harry seemed to hang in the air, slowly flying toward his cousin, the bright flare of Dudley's soul nearly at the Dementors gaping maw.

As the moment passed, time seemed to rush in as Harry slammed into Dudley's back, sending him hurtling toward the dark form of the Dementor. And in the instant Harry came into contact with his cousin, he pushed the plunger.

In what could either be described as a second or a timeless eternity, a bright golden light exploded from the golden device. Encompassing and obscuring everything in close proximity: the boys, the dementor, the air and gravel around them. But one bright speck of brilliant white light shone through it all. And as the golden light shot forth it began to twist and distort the very space around them, sending everything into a spinning vortex around the brilliant white light of Dudley Dursley's soul. Then, with a small pop, the light snapped towards its center, and everything encompassed by it, disappeared into the night.

The Dementor, Harry Potter, and Dudley Dursley were gone.

* * *

Just a dozen meters away from the now very empty spot of ground, Arabella Figg gasped for breath as the pressing cold and dark faded away into the summer night. Rubbing at her eyes trying to force away from the now blind spots in her vision. Struggling to her feet, shopping bags left behind, she staggered down the alley, desperate to find the boys healthy and well. But as she made her way down the alley, there wasn't a sign of them… they were gone! Not a body, or boy in sight! Her soul filled with fear as she sprinted back the other way, she had to contact Dumbledore! Then she was going to KILL Mundungus!


	3. Chapter 2 - New Scene-Updated

**Disclaimer:** We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.

 *****SECTION INSERT - OCT. 2016*****

 *****Updated Feb.6 2017*****

 **Author's note:** Sorry that it took so long for the next chapter to be posted we had some technical difficulties. But in all other aspects thank you for reading our story and commenting on it. If any of you have any questions, comments, or suggestions please feel free to contact us.

* * *

 *****NEW SCENE*****

The sound of raucous laughter filled the courtyard as Silri felt scraps of food hit her side and bowed head.

Five men, Imperial officers, had returned from their evening meal. As per the usual routine, they had stopped to mock and laugh at her, pride and superiority in their eyes. However, unlike usual, they had come much closer. Close enough to throw the scraps of their meal at her. If it was close enough for them, it was close enough for her.

She smiled behind her dark hair as the fire of malice raged in her heart. Wishing not to waste this precious opportunity, she raised her head and looked at the men. The officers stood confidently in their crisp grey uniforms, mocking expressions smeared across their were fools. Weaklings. And they deserved pain.

The group of officers were no more than six paces away from her cage. Imbeciles.

Using what she had practiced for many years, Silri drew on the power of the Fanged God and reached out with her presence. She could feel them, their dull spirits standing still in the swirling energy of the Spirit Realm. With the borrowed energy of the Fanged God, she latched her presence onto theirs and began to pull at the light of their spirits. At first, she felt resistance, but after a moment she began to feel the life energy of the officers flow into her being.

As soon as she began to pull at their life force, the officers jeering faces were instantly replaced with that of agony. Silri grinned maliciously as the officer's beautiful screams of agony reached her ears.

Fortunately for the fate of the five officers, they were not the only soldiers in the courtyard. As the screams of the officers filled the courtyard, several soldiers and officers rushed to the men, while one of the stormtrooper guards slammed a button on the nearby wall, causing her entire cell to become electrified.

For a few seconds, she attempted to continue, drawing upon the officer's stolen strength to endure the searing pain. But ultimately, she collapsed as the electric agony become greater than she could bear.

She labored through her now painful breathing, watching as medical personnel rushed to the comatose officers and carted them off. She smirked again, pleased she had shown the stupid imperials that she was not one to be mocked.

While she slipped into unconsciousness, her only regret was that she didn't have time to watch the life left their eyes.

* * *

Her consciousness drifted, wading through the misty fog of exhaustion and dehydration. She was never awake for long, her mind continually slipping between oblivion and reality. It had been many days since she had punished the officers, and she had suffered severely for what she had done.

She had been without food for many days and had only managed to get water from the constant rain that dripped down the bars of her cell.

Her body was covered in burns, a reminder of the torture she had endured. Her captures, cowards that they were, had electrified her from afar, wary of drawing close after what she had done to the idiotic officers.

A loud explosion jerked her mind away from her labored thoughts as her body was filled with an energy she didn't know she had. Dragging herself up from the floor of her grimy cell, lights began to flash as the Prison alarm began to blare, the loud claxon filling the courtyard before her. After struggling to move her weak body, she slumped against the bars of her cell, listening and watching for any clue as to what had caused the explosion.

On either side of the courtyard, large gray buildings loomed, housing and offices for the Imperials that ran the prison. She knew from previous experience that the main prison complex was located deeper into the facility, behind greater security and a large garrison of Stormtroopers. Rather than place her with the other prisoners, the Imperial Governor had placed her here in the courtyard to serve as a lesson to her sisters. All incoming prisoners passed through this courtyard and were treated to the sorry sight of Silri, surrounded in her own filth.

It was supposed to demoralize her kin, but she knew that it only infuriated her sisters further.

At the far end of the courtyard, Silri could see the tall wall that encircled the entire facility, cutting her off from the lush jungle of her home.

As she listened closely, she could hear explosions and cries coming from somewhere behind her cell. They had to be originating from where the main prison complex was found. Perhaps her Sisters had staged an attack?

She could not be sure. For while the night sisters were fearsome, the Imperial army possessed far greater firepower.

Stormtroopers and a few officers began to pour out of the buildings around her, rushing to reinforce their fellows.

For many long minutes, she listened, straining her ears to hear the progress of the ongoing battle.

Then to her surprise, the large gate at the head of the courtyard began to swing open. As it opened wide, she could see the vivid green of the wildlife beyond, contrasted by the stormy skies of her home. And between the swinging gates walked a man and a strange, hawk-like companion.

The man was tall and walked with purpose in his stride. He wore a dark brown jacket that caused his straight white hair to stand out. His companion, the hawk-like man, wore little clothing. But in his hands, he carried massive ax like blades. She had seen neither of them before and knew this might be her only chance out of the forsaken prison.

They drew near to her and seemed to take an interest in her cage. She stood and leaned against the bars, trusting them to hold her weight, and with what little strength she had, she again drew upon the power of the Fanged God. Then as they drew closer, she spoke, lacing the dark power into her voice.

"It is painful to see a trusted friend locked in this cell. You will open the door now."

She did not know these men, but she hoped that the power of her words would sap the will from their bodies.

The man's face twisted in a grimace as he tilted his head towards the hawk man.

"Urai, if she tries that mind control trick again, shoot her."

He then looked directly at her. "Silri, I assume. We're not nearly the weak minded fools you take us for. Though I am willing to open this door on my terms."

Silri's weak body was flooded with rage. How dare this man think to speak to her so! Her voice was filled with this fury as she spoke.

"Do not taunt me. When I'm free of this cell you'll be the second one I kill! I will not stand for a man such as you daring to give orders to me!"

The man smirked as her rage burned within her. His voice was confident and carried with it the smug superiority of a man who often got his way.

"Now now now… there is no need for such anger. You'll get out... as long as you give me a reason to release you."

He then reached into his jacket and drew out a deep red pyramid. The object seemed to emit a flickering ruby light the color of dried blood. The moment Silri saw the object she felt the dark power of the Fanged God surge within her, and draw her to the object.

She recognized the object in an instant. There could be no mistaking what it was. She had only ever seen one other, deep within the ancient academy far south of the Imperial Prison. And it was the knowledge that it contained which she coveted above all else.

An ancient reservoir of Sith knowledge and power.

She had to have it!

The man grinned as he held the object towards her in a way so that she could see it plainly.

"Do you know what this is?"

As Silri felt the deep power of the artifact, she knew that she would have to be cautious with this one. His essence felt as slippery as the Eels of the frenzied river.

She took a moment, reigning in her desire and habitual fury. When she spoke, she did so carefully, not wishing to give away more than was needful.

"It is a Sith creation. If it is real, it must be ancient. Where did you find it?"

"Where or whom I got it from doesn't matter. Can you access the information stored inside?"

Her malnourished mind raced as she took in the information she was being given. They wanted her to access it. Yes, she could most definitely do that. But she sensed that she could get more out of them than just that.

She reached out with her presence, seeking a way into this man's strangely well guarded mind.

"I...could, given time. But I would demand more than just my freedom in payment."

He nodded. "Name your price."

Inwardly, Silri grinned. She had been trapped for months, imprisoned by the cursed Imperial Governor. Her sisters had been likewise tormented by the host of Imperials that had placed a garrison on their planet. If she was to truly aid her sisters, she could not do it here. The Imperial's grip was too strong, their forces to numerous. If she could study the artifact, away from the intense pressure of the Imperial Governor, she might be able to return and make a significant difference.

But before she left this place, she needed to leave a message to the Empire. A message that the occupation of Dathomir was not to be tolerated.

If she was careful, she could get all she needed from this man.

"I will need transport off this planet in order to gather the needed resources. Accessing an artifact such as that takes time."

The man nodded, clearly accepting her request. She then continued: "I ask one other thing, revenge on my captor."

The man's face remained still, his eyes analyzing her. Then, the man's hawk-man companion spoke in a loud grating voice.

"Do not trust her, Tyber. Even now, she is reaching out to you with the dark side, prying at your defenses…"

The man smirked, though his eyes remained cold and hard.

"I'm not concerned about our lovely Silri, Urai. For now, at least, our goals are mutually beneficial."

The man, Tyber, turned his head again in her direction.

"Your terms are acceptable Silri. We can provide all the resources you could possibly need. But tell me, what is it that you have planned for this Governor? The Imperials are far too numerous for us to overthrow the entire garrison."

Silri nodded. "All I require is covert transportation to the facility. I will take care of the rest."

Tyber's grin grew as he regarded her request.

"It is a bargain, and it will be as you have said. Though I should warn you, if you even think of betraying our deal, I will not hesitate to kill you."

Silri regarded him for a long moment.

"It is understood. Now release me from this cell so that I may teach the Imperial Governor what the Nightsisters know of pain."

 *****END NEW SCENE*****

* * *

At the end of a sterile white hallway, lit by humming fluorescent lights, a rather pudgy man sat all alone in a small waiting room.

Dressed in a wrinkled polo and what appeared to be some sort of pajama pants, the man gave off the general impression of a man in distress. When added to the way he was perched on the edge of his seat, and how he continued to wring his hands, it was clear to see that the man was at the end of his rope.

His round plump arms were propped upon his knees, and his podgy forehead was creased with worry and dripped with sweat.

All things considered, it was a small wonder that the man wasn't pacing up and down the hall demanding his questions be answered. But for once, the man didn't say a word, sitting stock still.

Today was not a good day for Vernon Dursley.

No, it was indeed a very, very bad day.

It had all started a few months before…

For several years Vernon had worked as a Junior Executive of a small London based company dealing in automotive wiper blades. The company had begun to decline, however, and Vernon prided himself in seeing the impending future of the company. He had come in contact with an up and coming Drill company, called Grunnings, and had decided that this was his shot at establishing himself in a higher position.

He quit his job and was quickly hired on as a sales associate under the director of foreign sales. The first few months at his new job were most uneventful, which suited Vernon just fine. However, one evening after a hard day's work Petunia had given him the news that had quite literally shaken his world.

Vernon's overweight frame filled with pride when he heard that he would soon be a father.

With this thrilling new revelation and his ever increasing desire for respect and influence, Vernon bided his time, watching and waiting. Several months later Vernon's boss, a Mr. Cooper Bradley had become quite ill and Vernon was called upon to fill his shoes until his boss recovered.

The evening of his second day into the temporary position, Vernon had received quite an unexpected call from his extended cousin Neil. Vernon had grown up with Neil and they had been quite close before Neil's parents moved to the states, but they had stayed in contact, calling each other every few months. So it wasn't the call that had been unexpected, but rather the news he had shared.

Neil and his family had settled in Texas, and he now worked in the production department of a rather large firearms manufacturing company. The company had recently bought a large batch of drilling machines from an American company and the drills had failed and botched a batch of nearly 1,000 rifle barrels. Needless to say, Neil's boss had been fired for buying sub-standard equipment, and Neil had been tasked with finding suitable replacements.

Vernon could hardly believe it. Not two days into a temporary position and a sale of a lifetime had walked right into his lap, not wanting to waste one minute he began the process of a large quantity sale. Vernon's superiors had been beyond elated, excited at this opportunity for a large international sale.

The executives of Liberty Arms Manufacturing Co. had been interested in Grunnings machines but had demanded a thorough presentation before any finalization of the sale was made. With Mr. Bradley still sick at home, Vernon's boss had appointed Vernon to oversee the demonstration and sale finalization in Texas. Being the one who set up the sale, his employers decided it was best if Vernon himself went to Texas.

Originally Vernon had been quite nervous to leave his wife at home while she was quite far along in her pregnancy. In the end, they had decided that it would be best if Petunia would travel with him and that they would enjoy a week in Texas together as a sort of Holiday before their precious son was born. And so it was just a few weeks later, Vernon found himself on a cramped intercontinental flight headed towards the states, Petunia seated by his side.

After an early start in the morning and several layovers, Vernon and Petunia found themselves in the Houston International Airport in the mid afternoon. And due to the significant time change and the extended flight, Vernon and Petunia found themselves quite petered out. Vernon's cousin met him and Petunia at the airport and was pleasant enough to drive them to the hotel which Vernon had previously reserved a room.

Early the next morning Vernon fought through the haze of jet lag to get up early and be off to work with his cousin Neil. Together, they spent most of the morning and afternoon assuring the safe delivery and setup of the Grunnings drill. Fortunately, the drill arrived in one piece and there were no hitches in setting up and preparing for the demonstration which would occur the next day.

That night Neil and his wife, as well as Vernon and Petunia, had been invited to one of the Directors of the Liberty Arms Manufacturing Co's home for dinner to precede the sale that would occur the next day. Mr. Jackson, Neil's boss, had been quite the welcoming host and Vernon could tell that he was quite the competent executive. All in all, they had a wonderful evening and Vernon was excited about the great sale was to proceed the following day.

Vernon's demonstration of the Grunnings drill and gone off without a hitch and Mr. Jackson was quite pleased with the efficiency and quality of the drill. Following the presentation, Mr. Jackson had signed a contract buying several dozen drills.

The only way to describe that moment and the inner pride that radiated from Vernon was to say that it was absolutely the best day of his life. That had lasted until about midnight that very same day.

Vernon had settled into a wonderful night's sleep when he was suddenly awakened by Petunias panicked voice. "Vernon, get up and get dressed! Something's wrong with the baby!" Vernon and Petunia rushed to the hospital to see what was the matter.

After an examination and ultrasound, it was discovered that the baby's umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, slowly suffocating the poor dear. Petunia had then been rushed into a surgery room for the baby's immediate delivery via a "C" section. Fortunately, the hospital had a resident surgeon on call in the staff that night.

So before Vernon could hardly get a word in edgewise, his beloved wife and expected child were rushed away from him, leaving him to sit alone in an upstairs waiting room.

And so Vernon found himself sitting all alone, waiting for any news about his beloved wife and his unborn child.

Vernon could not quite tell how much time had passed, though he had sat for some time.

It was taking all that Vernon had to not run down the corridor to the nurse's station and demand to know what was happening to his wife and child. But Vernon did not do this, knowing that it would not help to make a scene in front of the nursing staff at 2 in the morning.

As Vernon lost himself in his thoughts and reflections, a sudden sound was echoed down the corridor. With what sounded like an explosion of some sort, Vernon abruptly looked down the hall to where his wife was still in surgery.

For a moment, silence fell around them, and then a commotion erupted down the hall as people started rushing out of the very same operation room where his wife was. He struggled to his feet barely understanding what was going on, as medical staff streamed out of the room pulling his wife's bed with them. They rushed out of the room then headed to an adjoining room when another nurse had split off from the main group, rushing past Vernon, down the hall off to who knows where.

Vernon stood staring, taking in what is going on in front of him. It appeared to be two boys clearly not dressed in appropriate medical attire, stumbled from the room.

* * *

Throughout Harry Potter's four years of exposure to the magical world, he had become very familiar with the several types and forms of magical transportation.

Out of all of them, brooms were definitely his favorite. The ability to fly through the air at breakneck speeds gave him a sense of freedom that he couldn't find anywhere else.

He could not speak so highly in regards to the other forms of magical transportation to which he so far been exposed. Traveling by floo powder was by far his least sensation of being sucked down a drain, the cool flames licking at his body as a stream of spinning fireplaces sped before him. It was a nauseating and delirious experience that always left him sick to his stomach, and usually lying on the floor. No, Harry Potter was definitely not fond of that type of "transportation".

Traveling by Portkey wasn't much better, though it didn't make him sick to his stomach. The feeling of a hook grabbing you by your navel and then pulling you forward in a spiraling swirl of color and wind was rather... interesting.

And of course, Harry could not forget his experience with the time turner. Now, one could argue whether or not one actually "traveled" when using a time turner, but Harry would argue vehemently that you do. Harry remembered very specifically his trip back in time with Hermione, the world dissolving around him as he was sent hurtling backwards, flying at an incredible speed, blurs of colored shapes rushing by, ears pounding, his attempt to yell, but no sound coming out and then suddenly standing still everything snapping back into perspective, suddenly appearing in another place, close to where his present-self was.

And at this moment, Harry wished he could be experiencing any of them rather than what he was feeling that very moment. After Harry had punched the plunger, he felt as if his whole being was being stretched to an infinite length, as he was sucked backward into a swirling vortex of life, light, and existence bled away.

Harry did not know how long he spent traveling in between the fabric of reality. Every moment was an eternity as the very being of his existence stretched from the beginning to the end of time. Slowly, as time faded from existence, Harry felt his consciousness slip away, lost in the tides of eternity.

With all the determination and willpower he could harness in this unexplainable feeling of time and infinite, Harry began to repeat to himself who he knew he was, desperately trying to hold to his sanity.

He was Harry Potter…

He was Harry Potter…

He was Harry…

He was Harry…

He was someone…

He was…

…

…

...

…

Then, in an instant. Harry was snapped back into existence as he was sent sprawling over a hard, slick surface. For a few painful moments, Harry just lay there, head pounding, ears ringing, and every inch of his body screaming in agony.

As the ringing in his ears faded and as the pain receded, Harry opened his eyes, exposing them to the harsh light of his surroundings. Rolling onto his side and propping himself on his aching arm, he raised his right hand to his eyes desperately attempting to shield himself from the penetrating fluorescent light.

Time seemed to slowly resume as his eyes began to adjust to the light to see what seemed to be a sterile, white hospital room. Several people in baggy blue clothes, face masks, and hairnets stood around an operation table, their faces and shocked eyes turned towards them. For just a few moments silence hung in the air, everyone confused at what had just occurred.

But the silence was soon broken as Harry heard a quiet moaning sound. Frantically casting his eyes around Harry was relieved to find Dudley to his left, collapsed, with what appeared to be a dark patch spreading down the front of his trousers. And suddenly as sound began to leak back into his consciousness, the room was enveloped in a cacophony of sounds as people started yelling and the shrill piercing cries of a baby met his ears. As the clamor of sound washed over him, Harry's strained and overwhelmed senses were unable to discern exactly what the doctors and nurses were saying.

As Harry watch the confused and frightened people they suddenly began to rush out of the door carrying with them precious medical supplies and equipment, rolling with them the operation table and what appeared to be a newly born baby. As they hastily made their retreat Harry was able to make out a few words: "Terrorist!", and "Bomb in the procedure room!"

Dazed and confused, Harry began to suddenly realize that he was not in the best of situations. Catching the hint, he attempted to stand but staggered and fell back to the ground. As he lay there for a moment, attempting to adjust to the situation, Harry felt a wave of fatigue come over him. He lay there for a few minutes, desperately waiting for some measure of strength to return to him.

The sound of shouting began to rise from the corridor, and Harry knew that he had to move. Again staggering to his feet as fast as he could manage, he stumbled a little as his feet slipped on the gravel that must have come with them in their journey through time. Moving over to where Dudley had collapsed on the floor, he grabbed Dudley's arm, attempting to shake him into awareness and pull him to his feet. But judging from the drool coming out of Dudley's mouth and limp arm, Harry's efforts we're not getting anywhere.

Desperate for some miracle Harry patted himself down searching for his wand. But it was not in his pockets. Looking around Harry saw his wand sticking out from underneath Dudley. Reaching behind his large cousin Harry grabbed his wand, and then still partially crouched over his cousin he fiercely whispered "Rennervate!" And jabbed his wand towards his cousin's head.

With the sound of a drowning man breaking the surface, Dudley spluttered awake, drawing in desperate, ragged breaths. Knowing their time had to be running short Harry grabbed his cousin and hauled him to his feet, pulling him towards the double doors at the entrance of the operation room.

As Harry dragged his cousin into the hallway he could hear the sounds of the surgery team coming from a room further down the corridor. Then, from behind him, a voice shouted "You two! Put your hands out where I can see them and back up against the wall!"

Spinning around Harry saw the nurse who had run out of the room leading to security guards down the hall. The two guards wearing gray uniforms and black slacks were advancing slowly down the hall. One guard was holding a baton while the other, a rather plump man had a pistol in his shaky hands. Harry began to slowly raise his hands, while Dudley just stood there, confusion and the bewilderment clearly written across his face.

"I said put your filthy hands in the air!" The chubby guard screamed.

If the guard was nervous a second ago, he looked absolutely terrified now as his hands were trembling, hardly keeping the pistol level.

The gun in the guard's hands seemed to finally catch Dudley's attention as he gasped and all but threw his hands in the air, panic written clearly in his features. With the quick and sudden movement of Dudley's surrender, the guard with the gun flinched, causing him to fumble and drop his gun.

Realizing how much trouble they would be in, not to mention if the ministry found out about this, Harry saw his chance and took it.

In instant Harry had grabbed his cousin's arm and was off running down the corridor, away from the advancing guards, Dudley stumbling behind.

Ahead of him, Harry could see what appeared to be a waiting room with a rather flustered and heavyset man heading toward them with determination in his face."Stop right there young man!"

Seeing this new obstacle Harry dashed to his right down an adjoining corridor. After running a few feet Harry spotted the door to the emergency staircase. Hauling Dudley into tight space of the emergency stairs Harry began to run down the staircase at full speed, Dudley practically tumbling down the stairs behind him. After making it down three or four sets of stairs, they reached what had to be the hospital's main floor. Seeing this, Harry was about to slam past the door when he felt one of Dudley's meaty hands grab his shoulder and pull him backward.

Harry spun around, shooting in incredulous stare at Dudley's face.

"Dudley! What are you doing? We've got to go!"

Dudley was clearly exhausted, his sides heaving for desperate breaths, and his eyes were filled with fear and confusion.

" I-I ca- can't… go any further, Harry."

Just then Harry heard the door about them burst open and shouting feel the stairwell. Harry fixed to gaze upon his cousin's panting face.

"Dudley, I know you're tired and confused, but we need. To. Go. NOW!"

Dudley's face looked desperate, clearly not wanting to run anymore. But hearing the pounding of feet above them, Harry grabbed his cousin's arm and hauled out of the close space of the stairwell.

As Harry pulled his cousin out of the stairwell he began blindly running down the corridor that they had found themselves in. Reaching a split at the end of the hall he blindly turned right, hoping that it would lead them out of this cursed hospital.

After turning a few more corridors, Harry had just passed a hallway when he quickly glimpsed a way out. Turning around and heading back down the hall Harry and Dudley burst into a large atrium-like room with big, vaulted glass windows.

Harry cast his gaze around searching for the doors, inwardly exulting that they had found a way out… until his eyes fell on a line of three constables, guns drawn, eyes fixed on Harry and his cousin.

The bobbies stood in what must have been the main lobby, having just entered the building, whereas Harry and Dudley were standing the main hall where all of the adjoining corridors met, separated by a low, waist high wall that separated parts of the lobby from the busy corridors of the hospital.

The officer in the front spoke, "Hold it right there!" his gun aimed directly at Harry's torso.

His voice was tense, but he spoke clearly, being careful to pronounce every word clearly.

"Both of you put your hands in the air, and slowly get down on your knees."

Harry's eyes darted to the hallway next to them, doing all that he could to not dash away from the constables.

Seeing Harry's uncertain gaze the officer spoke up again.

"If you do so much as make a step in the wrong direction, you will be fired upon. Now please, get down on your knees, and put your hands behind your head."

Despite his previous panic driven dash away from the security guards, Harry was suddenly realizing that he was in a life and death situation. This was not a time for blasé Gryffindor courage.

Realizing that they had him, he began to slowly put his hands behind his head, praying that they wouldn't find a good excuse to shoot him.

Besides him, Dudley Dursley had not yet come to those oh so rational conclusions. Whether it was from Dudley's previous run-ins with the law, or his sheer magic driven panic, Dudley did what you exactly should not do when one encounters officers with guns. He ran.

Fortunately for Dudley, he was the closest the nearest to the hallway, less than a meter, and was able to make it to safety before the shocked officer's bullets filled the air where Dudley had been standing a second previously.

Finding himself closer to the low wall that separated the corridor from the main atrium, he dove for cover before the constables could fill him full of lead.

The sound of bullets and officers angry shouts filled the open space as Harry panted desperately trying to figure what to do. In the few moments that Harry was crouched behind the safety of the wall, his adrenaline filled system begin to fill with anger and frustration.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to be running from the constables and the law. He didn't want to be traveling through time and space, and he most definitely didn't want to be shot at! His frustration built as he thought about Dumbledore leaving him alone in the situation where the dementors could find them, and where he had been forced to use the time turner. Even more, anger filled him as he thought of the officers firing their rounds at him when he hadn't even had a chance to figure what in Morgana's name was going on!

With those adrenaline filled thoughts of anger and frustration, Harry Potter snapped. Rolling away from where you been kneeling hiding behind a wall Harry quickly popped up during his hands and wand toward the oncoming officers.

Harry felt the bullet whiz by the air next to him as he stood there with his arms outstretched. The lights dimmed as the air grew chill as Harry's anger grew within him. "Stop!" His voice was rolled out of him like thunder, issuing forth with a power that Harry didn't know that he had.

The officer's faces were plastered with surprise, and their eyes contorted with fear as they stared slack-jawed at Harry.

After a moment of peace, and without sparing the officers a glance, he ran down the corridor that his cousin had fled.

* * *

It took a few minutes for Harry to find Dudley after escaping the officers. And a few minutes more for them to find an alternate exit out of the back of the hospital. Harry and Dudley have been stumbling and running away from the hospital for the better part of an hour. Harry and Dudley had taken a few moments to rest, but there exhausted bodies couldn't take it anymore.

After stumbling around for longer than Harry would've liked, they were able to find a park which they could take a few minutes to rest and hide.

Making their way down the sidewalk which hid them in a copse of trees, Dudley collapsed onto the grass by a rubbage bin and park bench. His chest was heaving, and his breath sounded like he had run an entire marathon.

Harry himself wasn't much better, he sat down on a park bench next were Dudley lay prostrate, utterly exhausted. He sat there desperately trying to catch his breath and wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Nearly half an hour had passed before Harry felt ready to speak.

Eyes closed, still trying to recover from their misadventure, Harry began to speak:

"Dudley… about what happened, I am so sorry that you had to go through that. None of that was supposed to happen, and I didn't have anything to do with those creatures and where we ended up."

Harry opened his eyes, sparing a glance at Dudley. His cousin had recovered somewhat and had rolled over into a sitting position leaning over something he was holding.

"Harry…" his voice came out hoarse and extremely tired.

"Dudley, I can explain some of what happened, and once we get to the house I'll be able to.."

His cousin interrupted him "Harry… I think you need to look at this…" His hunched form beside Harry held something in his hand.

Harry looked at Dudley, concerned that the day might have driven him bonkers.

"Dudley, I know it was a rough day but what you are feeling…"

Suddenly the object in Dudley's hand was in front of his face

"Harry. Shut your bleeding trap and read this."

Surprised by the sudden steel in Dudley's voice and what seemed to be a paper in from of his face, Harry grabbed it and began to read.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The Huston Tribune

June 23, 1980

oooooooooooooooooooo

Harry Potter's mouth fell wide open, and the whole world fell away around him. They had traveled nearly fifteen years into the past. Fifteen years! How could this even be possible? He hadn't even been born yet! And… they had traveled to America?!

A sudden noise from Dudley broke Harry out shocked state. Looking over at Dudley, his cousin must have suddenly passed out as he was now laid sprawling on the ground.

Snap!

Harry jerked his head up, only to find a man with a wand bearing down on him.

"Stupefy!"

Harry barely had time to blink before the red light hit him and his consciousness was sent into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 3 - New Scene-Updated

**Disclaimer:** We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.

 *****SECTION INSERT - OCT. 2016***** (Found at the end of chapter)

 *****Updated Feb.6 2017*****

 **Author's Note:** Hey y'all! Thanks for checking out our story! Few things for you today.

-We have updated the blog on our website with some information from this chapter. Check us out and let us know what you think. Again, you can find us at siblingsgrimm .weebly .com (remove spaces)

-Thank you all for your reviews and constructive criticism! We appreciate the support! And thank you also for all of you who have followed and favorited our story, we are blown away by your support!

And don't worry, Star Wars is on its way, you just have to be patient. (Evil grin... diabolical laughter...)

* * *

"Captain Johnson come in. This is Lieutenant Halverson over."

Captain Johnson reached over the piles of reports and evidence documentation on his desk and grabbed his radio, and pushed the push-to-talk button.

"Go ahead Lieutenant Halverson, this is Captain Johnson, over." He said releasing the button.

"Captain, the Syndicate Drug bust has made a turn for the worst. We currently have them held up in a multistory building, but I am afraid this may quickly turn into a full-on firefight. If we are going to take them down, I am going to need some backup."

Captain Johnson's eyebrows shot up as he heard the Lieutenant's report, his hand automatically rubbing his already lined forehead.

"Halverson, this morning in the briefing you said that this warehouse was supposed to have relatively few perps. Besides the shipment, they were expecting, what happened?"

His radio crackled and beeped as the Lieutenant's voice came back through.

"Captain, I'm not exactly sure, when we turned up and stormed the building there were far more men here than we expected. We didn't have the officers to safely take the building and were forced back onto the street. We think the syndicate was having talks with another gang."

Johnson thumbed the button. "Roger that Halverson. We can't afford to let this spill out into the surrounding area, especially at this hour. What do you need?"

"They have the ground level locked down pretty tight. If we are going to get in there with minimal casualties then we are definitely going need a SWAT team, two would be preferable."

"Ten four Lieutenant. Keep those lowlifes where they are, our SWAT team will be on the road in a matter of minutes. I will also radio over to District twelve and see if Captain Hiller can send his SWAT team your way."

Halverson's voice came back quickly. "Roger that Captain, I will keep you posted on the situation."

After contacting dispatch and ordering the SWAT team to Lieutenant Halverson's position, and asking Captain Hiller for his team, Captain Johnson set his radio on his desk and ran his hand through his hair, what was left of it anyway. He was getting too old for this job.

The Texas Syndicate, a Texas and California Prison gang, had been a pain in Johnson's rear end for quite a long time. The Drug trade and business weren't anything new. Any sizable gang in the Houston area sold and dealt drugs. The real problem with the Syndicate was their penchant for violence. They were always packing, and their firearms were always of a higher caliber. Worst of all, they were never afraid light you up.

A few days ago it had come to their attention that the Syndicate was expecting an unusually large shipment of drugs. Due to some contacts, they had been able to discover the location of the warehouse where they were to be expecting the delivery.

And due to the aforementioned tendency toward violence, Captain Johnson had assigned nearly three-quarters of that shifts officers to the bust, tasking Lieutenant Halverson with command. Leaving only a few officers to patrol the remainder of their district.

Johnson sighed once again, knowing all of the paperwork that was going to accompany this bust once it was all said and done.

He was getting too old for this job.

Captain David Johnson had worked as a police officer for most of his life. At the age of forty-eight he felt like he was he was quickly nearing the time when he would retire. After nearly twenty-three years of service as an officer, he was definitely one of the older men on the force.

The majority of officers he knew served for around twenty years before retiring, maybe picking up a part time job afterward just to help things around the house. Unless of course they were moved up into the better paying, and therefore less physically active ranks. Captain Johnson had never really fancied himself an office man. After he had graduated from high school and tried his hand at college, he had quickly realized that book work was not for him. And thus it was that he had found himself applying for the police academy, kind of just hoping that it would work out.

That thoughtless application had led to the next twenty-four years of his life. Little did he know at the time that he had just found his life's passion, in more ways than one.

Not only had Johnson fallen in love with being a police officer, but in his first posting in a small town in northern Texas, he had become quite smitten with the gorgeous dispatch officer who would one day become his wife.

They settled down in Dayton and had several children, two in High School and one still in Middle School. And besides his passion for his career, his family had grown to become the single most important thing in his life.

After moving to Dayton he had applied to the Police Department there but had been turned down as they currently had no open positions at the time. Fortunately, he had then been able to secure a job as an officer in the Houston Police Department, and he had served here ever since.

He had enjoyed the first twenty years of his career. He felt like he was making a difference in the world, helping to make the world a better place. But in the last few years, his enthusiasm had waned. Not for any loss of love for the job, rather, from the impending desk jobs that were hanging over his head.

Johnson was a capable officer. He was quick, a good shot had a great heart, and most important of all, he was a good judge of character. And over the last few years, he had been approached no less than five times about being promoted to higher ranks and positions in the Department. But he had resisted, dreading the hours he would have to spend behind a desk while younger officers were out there risking their lives.

Eventually, at the urging of his lovely wife, he had acquiesced and had been promoted to Captain. Along with several other Captains, he was co-responsible for Huston PD's tenth District, a small area just south and east of downtown Houston. The job wasn't too bad, he still got to go out on occasion, but when he came back the paperwork was always there.

He knew that he probably didn't have much longer on the force. The Chief, a good friend of Johnson's from back in the academy days, was concerned at Johnson's persistence in being out in the field, and had been bugging him for the last month or so to accept a position as one of the Vice-Chiefs. A position that would doom him to a life of endless reports, so Johnson just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He knew if he accepted the position his action days would be over, but on the other hand, he knew that he couldn't keep up with the younger officers for much longer. He was getting old. Maybe it was time for him to retire and take a different job, he had always found construction to be rather interesting.

After checking in with Lieutenant Halverson to assure that the bust was going well, he checked his clock. Just a few minutes till eleven. Just a few hours more and his friend Captain Ravesten would be taking over and he would be able to go home for a well-deserved rest.

Johnson picked up a pile of papers, reports on a recent homicide investigation, and began to flip through the papers when his radio blared back to life.

"Captain Johnson this is dispatch. We have an urgent situation at the Women's Hospital down on Old Spanish trail. A nurse called in reporting a bombing. The fire department and paramedics are already on their way."

Captain Johnson leaped to his feet, swearing to himself.

"Roger that dispatch, do we have any officers in the area?" Hoping against hope that with the majority of their officers at the firefight on the east side of town that someone would be patrolling in the area.

"Negative Captain, Officer Jones is at least ten minutes away with Officer Crowley not too far behind him. Though Officers Clement and Burns just reported in."

"Contact Clement and Burns and tell them to hop in a patrol car and get down there now. Tell them that I will be just a few minutes behind them."

Then thinking quickly he pressed the button again. "Also contact the Bomb squad at HQ, I don't care if they are sleeping at home, get them up and get them down to the Hospital."

By this time Johnson was out of his office and running down the hall, barely pausing to fling the door of the armory open before heading to his locker and gear. With the skill that only comes from decades of experience, he quickly donned his kevlar vest and other equipment before he turned on his heel and ran out the door, heading toward the parking lot.

Johnson had made it out of the parking lot and onto the road in a matter of minutes, and he could still hear the siren of the other officer's car ahead of him.

Hauling down the roads, he traveled as fast as he dared, speeding past the other cars as they barely managed to pull out of the way in time.

Within a few minutes, he had the hospital in his sights and swerved into the drop-off area in front of the hospital before peeling to a stop. His car barely had barely stopped before he was out the door running low toward the front of the building, officers Burns, and Clement standing on either side of the entrance as people ran out of the hospital doors.

The red and blue lights from their cars lit the area as Johnson neared his officers.

"Clement, what is the situation?" His tone abrupt and serious as his mind was now focused on the situation before him.

One of them held a rifle, the other a shotgun, having time to grab their heavier weapons before Johnson had arrived.

Officer Clement gestured toward a clearly nerve-stricken woman who was being comforted by a few firefighters before he began to speak.

"That nurse over there was in an operation room on the fourth floor when the bomb went off. Apparently, the bombers rushed into the operation room right after the explosion looking rather dazed. We assume the bombs must have misfired, not quite going off as expected and catching the two bombers unawares."

He paused a moment to point toward the upper floors before continuing.

"Just a few minutes ago hospital security was sent to the fourth floor where they encountered the perpetrators attempting to flee and have been chasing them through the building."

"How about descriptions, were you able to get anything from the nurse?"

The officer nodded and also gestured to his radio.

"Yes sir, we just got a confirmation from the guards in pursuit. We are looking at two young adult males, one skinny, one rather heavy set."

Johnson quickly filed the information and nodded.

"Roger that Clement, good work. The Bomb Squad is on their way and dispatch is sending what it can our way. You mentioned two bombers, have any other perpetrators been spotted?"

Burns replied this time. "Negative Captain."

"Okay then. We can't let these two escape before the bomb squad arrives. We can't risk another bomb going off in such a populated area. Clement, I want you on my left, Burns on my right."

And as the officers formed up around him they entered the building, guns at the ready, posture slightly crouched, attention on full alert.

The lobby was brightly lit with small chandlers, making the white furniture bright in comparison to the dark of the night outside. The main sitting area was a half circle, a waist-high stone wall dividing it from the heads of the hallways that went further into the hospital. The waiting area was further divided in half by a wide walkway that went down the center, heading toward the main desk ahead of them.

The officers proceeded cautiously into the well-lit area, listening carefully for any signs of the two bombers. Johnson tilted his head slightly towards Burns, whispering quietly.

"You hear anything? My hearing isn't what it used to be."

Burns cocked his head, listening, before gesturing towards the head of the hallway on their right.

"I hear running, its faint, though."

Johnson nodded and gestured that they were to head down the walkway until they were clear of the low wall before they headed towards the hallway beyond it.

They moved as a well-coordinated unit, each of them having years of experience, knowing exactly where and how to move.

But before they could clear the low stone wall, the sound of pounding feet grew louder, and then suddenly stopped. Johnson, hearing the sudden change, raised his left hand, signaling that they should stop. They listened closely, raising their guns if something sudden were to happen.

Then, with a loud crash a door at the end of the hallway opened up and two forms burst out of it, running full tilt before they suddenly spotted Johnson and his men, and came to a scrambling stop.

Johnson instantly aimed his gun towards the two perps and took a moment to observe them.

The one on the left was lanky and thin, with wild black hair and wire-framed glasses. He was breathing heavily, clearly just having run a long distance. But he was not what Johnson was expecting, this was a boy, not a young adult, not a hardened criminal who would set off explosives in the middle of a woman's hospital.

Glancing at the other he saw that he too was no older than sixteen. But while the other had been lanky and thin, this one was heavy and plump, chest heaving in deep breaths, face flushed with exertion.

Johnson spoke, being sure to say each word clearly and concisely, but not wanting to send the two young men into a panic.

"Hold it right there"

His eyes focused on the leaner one, noticing the boy's eyes as they darted around the room, looking for an alley of escape.

"Both of you put your hands in the air, and slowly get down on your knees."

But as the boy's eyes continued to move about he spoke again, wanting the young man to get the message.

"If you do so much as make a step in the wrong direction, we will be forced to fire. Now please, get down on your knees, and put your hands behind your head."

The lanky boy began to slowly raise his hands above his head, his eyes now fixed steadily on Johnson.

'Good kid now keeps it nice and easy.' Johnson thought to himself. In his long years in the department he had been forced to deal with more teenage crime then he could ever want, and there was nothing worse than having to shoot a kid because they did something stupid.

Suddenly, the fatter kid besides the first dove for the safety of the corridor, its angled hallway giving him cover. Johnson and the officers, surprised as they were, did not hesitate to shoot at the fat one. But whether they hit him or not he couldn't tell as the kid was hidden behind the corridor.

Quickly switching his attention back towards the lanky one, he saw the kid dive behind the stone wall before he could get a shot off. Though that didn't keep him and the officers from firing into the low wall, hoping that it was just for appearances. No such luck.

He fired the occasional round into the wall, hoping to keep the boy down while he signaled for Clement to bank left so they could catch the kid in a crossfire.

As Clement slowly made off towards his left, Johnson kept his gunned trained just above the wall, ready in case the kid decided to pop up.

But suddenly, the kid rolled out from behind the wall into the walkway that split the room, quickly jumping to his feet. His face was contorted with anger as he swung his hand and what appeared to be a long stick in their direction.

Johnson managed to get a round off as the kid was jumping to his feet but misjudged the kid's width as the bullet flew harmlessly past his torso. And the young man screamed with a voice of fury.

"STOP!"

Then, the weirdest thing began to happen.

Now, as a professional lawman and experience officer, Johnson prided himself on his steel nerves. Countless firefights had taught him to focus on the goal, not on the raging fear in his chest.

And it was with this in perspective, that Captain Johnson found himself paralyzed with fear. All of his experience, all of his training, out the window. The icy feeling growing in his chest as the room seemed to grow dark. His knees suddenly collapsed underneath him as he heard the screams of his wife and newborn child, his mind flashing back to that moment when he almost lost his small family in childbirth.

The light of the room slowly disappeared, chased away by this night from hell.

The cold was physical now, his body locked as he stared at the young man before him, darkness seeming to emanate from his scrawny form.

And then… he was gone.

* * *

"So… that's the whole story? The whole thing, you're not lying to me right?"

Captain Johnson glanced up, his eyes now fixed on the sharp features of the man in front of him.

After the incident with the demon child, Johnson had come to staring at the ceiling of the lobby, paramedics checking him over. He had been given a blanket, which was now wrapped around his shoulders, and a warm drink was clutched between his hands. He was told that he was currently in shock.

He sat there for a few minutes. Officers, paramedics, and firemen swarming the now cramped space. He noticed the individuals in bomb protection equipment that kept entering the building.

Johnson had then been taken aside by the man that was now standing before him, an Agent Richard Jones of the FBI. The man was tall, had sharp features, and short brown hair parted on the side. He was kind in his questions, giving him plenty of time to answer, but he was firm as well, demanding full attention to detail. Johnson could tell that he took his job very seriously.

Letting out a sigh he responded.

"Yes Agent Jones, I told you everything that happened tonight. I may not be proud of it, but that is the whole story. I know it sounds crazy, and the Paramedics tell me I'm experiencing shock, but I swear to you that is the truth."

The agent looked directly into his eyes for just a few moments before giving a short nod.

"I appreciate your cooperation Captain. With everything that has gone on tonight, I appreciate your honesty and frankness."

Ruffling through some papers in the notebook he had been taking notes with, the agent withdrew a single paper and handed it to him.

"I'll need you to look this over and sign it if you will."

Johnson took the paper and glanced down at the form, quickly scanning it.

0000000000000

Obliviation Consent and/or Proof of Occurrence

MACUSA - Magical Bureau of Investigation

Form 387

No-Mag Law Enforcement

0000000000000

Johnson's brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what exactly to make of the form, and shifted his gaze from the ridiculous paper to the Agent.

"What kind of…."

He jerked backward as he saw a long stick and a flash of white light.

And Captain Johnson knew no more.

* * *

Harry Potter finished reading the last article of the morning paper and closed the pages, being careful to put them in their proper place. He then folded the paper and placed it on the table before him.

There was nothing quite like a morning paper to start your day off right. Granted, Harry couldn't always get ahold of a paper when he was with his Aunt and Uncle, and when it came to the Daily Prophet you could never be sure what crazy load of witches brew was hiding in those pages. But most of the time, aside from those odd exceptions, reading the paper was something he enjoyed.

This morning's paper, well, actually it was yesterday's morning paper, had been quite enjoyable. The main story had featured an account of a dying Millionaire who had decided to donate his fortune to a local children's hospital. The first part of the article had given a stunning summary of the man's life and his many accomplishments. And the second part of the article had then been topped off with a tear-jerking story of a young child with a rare disease whose parents could not afford treatment, who would now be able to be treated due to this generous man's donation.

He had also read several articles about local politics and upcoming elections (promising to be sure), and about a fire that had been subdued without any loss of life. And with the weather section forecasting sunny skies and warm summer days, the paper had been quite nice indeed.

Well, all besides one small factor. But with all this good news and pleasant talk, it wouldn't really be worth mentioning it. After all, it was such a small affair. Just a trifle really. What kind of Scrooge would he be to ruin such good with such an inconsequential tidbit?

Okay, he didn't want to lie to himself. It was bothering him. Though it really shouldn't, it did have the promise to be such a great day after all. He shouldn't let it bother him so. Harry was sure that it was just a type error, something that the editor of such a fine paper should have surely caught.

A simple date error, just fifteen years in the past…

Fifteen years in the past… He chuckled to himself, sure that it was just a silly mistake. After all, the alternative was ridiculous. No one had ever traveled fifteen years into the past.

His eyes flicked back to the date on the paper in front of him.

June 23rd, 1980

Fifteen years…

Fifteen years…

All of a sudden Harry's metal charade of happiness and normalcy fell like a house of cards.

Fifteen years…

He had time traveled fifteen YEARS into the past, FIFTEEN of them!

That had never, ever, ever, ever, EVER, happened before.

When one is newly acquainted with the magical world there are a few things that one quickly learns.

First, saying "Abra Kadabra" is a BIG no no.

Second, pulling bunnies out of hats isn't a real thing.

Third, NEVER try to bring anyone back to life.

And fourth, extended time travel is IMPOSSIBLE.

And as amazing as Dumbledore is, there is NO WAY that he could make a time turner that would take him back fifteen years into the past.

There is just no way.

Taking a deep breath, Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to calm down.

A cough broke him from his moment of silence. Harry jerked his head up, looking behind him.

When he had woken up, he had found himself slumped onto a cool metal table, a small pile of drool collecting on its cool surface. Rousing himself, he found his hands in handcuffs locked to the table. Besides him was the paper from yesterday.

He wasn't able to reach into his pocket to check for his wand, but he couldn't see it, or feel its familiar presence.

In front of the table was a long mirror that ran along the wall, presumably a two-way mirror, which ended at a door in the corner of the room. He had been distracted by the paper and had not checked if anyone else had been in the room behind him.

Raising from a stool that sat in the corner, a rather broad, bald man rose to his feet. He wore dark blue robes over clothes which must have been fashionable in the wizarding 80's. As he slowly walked around Harry towards the right end of the table, Harry noticed a golden emblem fashioned in the form of some sort of bird inlaid on the left breast of his robes.

Reaching the side of the table the man leaned forward on his hands and fixed Harry straight in the eye, his face stone cold and imposing.

"So… You think it's funny to play around with the No-Mags kid? Like to see the terror on their face when they think you're going to kill them and blow their families to bits?"

The man's voice was quiet, but loud in its intensity. Harry found it hard to look away from the man's piercing eyes.

"Nearly one hundred and twenty people were forced to flee from a dedicated women's and children's hospital. Twenty-one of which were harmed in the mass panic as people fled the building. Three accidents caused by fleeing visitors severely injured another nine people. Several long-term patients went into shock and were nearly lost before the staff was able to stabilize them. And a young husband and newborn baby nearly lost their mother all because you thought it would be funny to pull a harmless little prank."

The man paused, clearly gathering himself and attempting to reign in his formidable anger.

"If a SINGLE ONE of those people would have died I would have personally locked you away in the Wilds* for the REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!"

Harry sat stock still, eyes wide open nervous as he leaned away from the raging man, not having expected such a raging tirade.

"Smith, I think that is enough now."

The bald man jerked his gaze away from Harry towards the door in the corner of the room. The door was open, and a tall brown haired man with pointed features stood in the door, wearing the same dark blue robes the first man was wearing.

"Smith, you're scaring the young man. Why don't you take a seat for a minute."

The bald man, Smith, spluttered indignantly. "Scared? I would hope so! The selfish little brat deserves no better!"

The tall man rolled his eyes and walked the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked up to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down in front of Harry. He placed a folder down in front of him before glancing and Smith and gesturing toward the chair on the man's left.

Smith scowled but remained standing at the side of the table, his arms crossed.

Harry was still reeling from the whole situation and Smith's explosive diatribe when the man on the left spoke again, this time directing his remarks towards Harry.

"I must apologize for my partner here, he comes from a No-Maj family and doesn't take to kindly towards the type of behavior that you exhibited yesterday. Though you should know, what you and your friend did yesterday was very serious."

Smith looked angrily at the tall man. "Jones that is none of this perps blasted business!"

Jones sighed, looking away from his flustered partner.

"As my partner mentioned, my name is Agent Jones, MBI. What's your name kid?"

Harry paused for a moment, taking a few second to orient himself with this rather odd situation he had found himself in. A No-Maj? What in Merlin's name is a No-Maj? Must be what the yank wizards call muggles.

"Harry, Harry Potter." Mentally Harry slapped himself, berating himself for giving these agents his actual name. He didn't know what kind of crazy things could happen from things you said fifteen years in the past.

"Potter huh? I'm not familiar with any Potters… Smith, you know and Potters?"

Jones glanced at his partner. "No" The bald man ground out. Clearly still ticked off at Harry.

Jones nodded and looked back to Harry.

"Harry, we noticed when we arrested you last night that you didn't have your wand permit on you. Any reason for that?

"Uhh…" Harry's mind repeated the question. Wand permit? Since when did someone need a permit for a wand? Maybe it's a Yank thing?

"I uh, left it at home." Came out his half-hearted lie. He wouldn't have believed it himself.

Jones quirked and eyebrow.

"You do know that it is a congressional law to carry your wand permit at all times, right? I know Illvermony hasn't slipped that much since I was a kid."

"No, I know, I just forgot it at home. Didn't mean anything by it of course."

It was Smith's turn this time. Again his voice came out in a growl, like some kind of Man-Bear: "Left it at home huh? Doesn't sound quite right to me. More like you left it at home in case you got caught, hoping we wouldn't root you out to your parents. What kind of fake name is Harry Potter anyways? Not the smartest kid are you?"

Inwardly Harry palmed his forehead. Literally, the one time he had given his real name in a situation like this and they thought it was a fake. Now, this was a new experience.

"I swear, the whole thing at the hospital was an accident. And Harry Potter is my real name."

Jones cut in before Smith could take a bite at Harry's comment.

"Alright, Harry. As you surely know, what happened last night was a serious breach of the International Statute of Secrecy, and that is not commenting on all of the other moral and legal lines you broke."

His face grew serious and grim and he continued. "As overeager as Smith may be at times, he wasn't lying to you earlier. What you did last night was wrong, and you will be lucky if you get to keep your wand and return to Illvermony come August, very lucky."

"So Harry, this is what we are going to do. You are going to give us your parents floo address so we can call them into the department. They are probably worried sick about you. And then us four are going to sit down with you and have a nice long chat about what happened last night and why you did it. Understand?"

He could see that Jones wasn't messing around. Out of the two, Harry would much rather talk with Jones, but it was clear that whatever happened, he was in some serious trouble. But he couldn't let them knew that he had traveled fifteen years into the past! For all, he knew they would lock him up for breaking some crazy wizarding anti-time travel law he knew nothing about!

He decided that he might be best off if he tried to flow with it. After all, It had worked for him before.

"Yes sir, I understand. Just one problem, my parents and I just moved into the area sir, our house hasn't yet been connected to the floo network."

Jones paused, taking a moment to regard Harry.

"I see… well, that shouldn't be a problem, right? Just give us their names and we will have an owl off to them in no time."

Mentally Harry was calling himself an idiot. When had he become such a bad liar? He scrambled for a few seconds, desperately thinking of an excuse that would make sense in the given situation. What did he know about fifteen years ago? He had been born this year, the war with Voldemort had just started, wait, Voldemort….

Harry slumped his shoulders, hoping to look defeated.

"Well… well…" He let out a long breath and hung his head.

"My parents aren't actually here. They are still in England, they sent me here hoping I could avoid the war with Voldemort."

There was silence for a few moments, the Dark Lord's name hanging in the empty space between them.

Jones looked at him, Harry completely unaware of what the agent was thinking.

"Okay, so you're a refugee? Why didn't you just say so?"

Harry stuttered out a lame excuse about being embarrassed.

Agent Smith put his hands back on the table and leaned toward Harry.

"So why don't you tell us what you were doing in a hospital setting off explosions? And while we are on the topic, what kind of spell did you use to make the officers think you were some sort of demon child? A refugee is starting to sound an awful like terrorist to me."

Harry's stomach dropped in his stomach. Thinking quickly he made one last shot at it.

"It was an accident! I didn't mean for any of that to happen! I was just with my cousin, he was visiting some family in the hospital (technically not a complete lie). I have had some bad experiences with hospitals in the past and I just sort of lost control!"

Once again silence filled the room as Harry waited for their response. He glanced at Jones, hoping to see understanding in his eyes, only to find… disappointment?

Jones sighed.

"Look, Harry, you look like a good enough kid. But I came in here trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and all you have given me is lies."

Jones nodded at Smith, and Smith reached into his robes and pulled out a small shiny object suspended on a long golden chain.

No… The world dropped from beneath Harry. How had he not realized that the time turner was missing when he woke up?

Smith, still leaning forward, spoke up. "Why don't we cut the Zuffalo* dung and get to the point. Strange isn't it that not a part of your story mentioned this? Or the reason why you would flee from the scene of the crime if you were visiting 'relatives'."

He leaned in closer, making sure to make eye contact.

"We already talked to your whale of a cousin. Poor kid blabbed the whole story while crying a bucket of tears. Why don't you tell us the whole story? The TRUTH this time!"

Harry's mouth fell open as he stared at them in complete shock. Did they know? Had they known the whole time? He had been played! His shoulders slumped and he looked down, knowing he had been beaten.

"Where do you want me to start?" His voice came out tired, weary from the past day.

Agent jones leaned back and took out a notebook and quill. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

So, still reeling in shock, and completely overwhelmed from the happenings of the last twenty-four hours, Harry told them the truth.

Starting from his dreadful morning on the Privett drive in the year 1995, all the way through to his run from the constables. He told them everything.

Agents Jones and Smith were remarkably quiet for the whole tale, only quirking an eyebrow here and there when he crossed some of the weirder sections. After he was completely finished he waited, dreading the accusations of lies or the imprisonment for breaking random magical 'don't do this' law number 259 subsection B. But surprisingly, none of that happened.

After a few heavy second hung in the air, Agent Smith broke out into a rather unexpected grin and leaned back, letting out a rather unbecoming chuckle.

"Now that's a tale young man! Much better than that load of witches brew you gave us a few minutes ago."

Completely thrown off by this now completely unorthodox and unexpected day, Harry paused.

"So… does that mean you believe me?" Hearing the doubt in his own voice.

"Believe you? I don't know about that… but what you said definitely falls in place with all of the facts we have so far. It also explains why you were so shocked by that newspaper there." Agent smith gestured to the newspaper on the table.

"Though, I should tell you that your cousin didn't actually blab. Just kept muttering about magic and time travel. We sent him down to the Medi-witch for a case of severe magical shock. Oh, and next time that you want to pull off being a citizen of another country... you might want to cover up your accent."

Harry's jaw dropped open.

He was such an idiot! Why hadn't he thought of that?

"Don't look so surprised kid," Agent Jones offered, "You don't work a job in law enforcement this long without learning how to read teenagers."

"So what happens now?" Harry ventured, worried about his possible fate.

"Well" Agent Smith started, "What you said about time travel, and this here time-turner correspond with the large amounts of temporal energy that were found by the mop up squad. So, we definitely know that you believe that is what happened. But you don't work around magic for a dozen or so years without getting a might cautious when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Smith is right. We are more than likely going to have you and your cousin looked over by an Enigmian"

"A what?" Harry's mind already filling with images of some sort of horrid American monster.

Jones looked up from the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that's right. Forgot you Brits call them unspeakable, those that work with the unknown areas of magic?"

"Oh…" Harry still wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about, but he was too tired to do anything about it.

Agent Smith reached across and unlocked Harry's handcuffs.

"Alright kid, let's get you to a place where you can wash up and get a few hours of shut-eye. It's been a long night for all of us."

After the interrogation, they took him to a locker room where he was able to shower and change into some pajamas they had provided. Shortly afterward, he was led to a small room with two beds and an adjoining loo. His cousin was already passed out on the bed on the left, a window showing the night cityscape.

As they walked into the room agent Jones spoke up.

"This is where you will be staying the night. We have a few rooms like this that we usually use for officers that are on call during the Night shift. Now, why don't you get some sleep and we will be back in the morning. If you need anything Agent Jorgensen will be just outside the door."

Harry thanked the agent and watched as the man left. He knew the agent outside wasn't just there in case they needed something. They were being watched. They were still prisoners. At least it was better than a jail cell. He walked over the side of his bed and sat down on the somewhat thin mattress. He took a moment to watch his cousin, lying silently on his bed.

Before he hopped into bed, he went to the bathroom, hoping to find a toothbrush he could use. It only took a minute before he found a disposable toothbrush of some kind, and began to brush his teeth.

* * *

Thinking about everything they had gone through that day, he wondered what he would have felt like if he had been exposed to the magical world the same way Dudley had been, he probably would be passed out too. That or hyperventilating in a corner.

Even in comparison to the other adventures that had taken place throughout the years, these past 24 hours had been something else. And this time, there were no teachers or friends to pull him out of trouble when he needed them. He was alone. And stranded in a time before he had even been born. He didn't even know if his parents had decided on a name for him yet.

True, Dumbledore was still alive, the man being over a hundred years old. But he didn't think that contacting him would be a good idea. He really didn't know how contacting him could affect the future, he didn't know if he wanted to risk it.

Honestly, as odd as ironic as it was, he just wished that he was back at the Dursley's house.

Finished with his teeth, and done wasting time on what ifs, Harry left the bathroom, intending to get some much-needed rest.

But when Harry came back into the room, he found Dudley sitting quietly on the side of his bed, his head in his hands. Not sure what exactly to do, never having comforted his cousin before, Harry walked awkwardly to Dudley's side and sat down next to his larger cousin.

After a few moments, he awkwardly put his hand on his cousin's shoulder and spoke.

"Look, Dudley, I am really sorry about what's happened. I didn't mean to drag you into any of this."

Harry opened his mouth, preparing to continue comforting his cousin. But suddenly, all he could sense was a meaty fist crashing into his face. Harry was thrown sideways, falling off the bed and onto the floor.

After the fog a shock dissipated, Harry was left lying on the floor with his jaw hanging open, and a nice welt starting to form on his face. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Dudley had knocked him on his ass.

"That is for bringing me back to the bloody day I was born!" Dudley's face was red, clearly still ticked off. Harry lay there for a moment trying to process what had just happened, before standing up and then sitting down on the bed across from his Cousin.

After a minute of two, Dudley spoke again, this time in a less aggravated tone.

"Sorry… I'm just trying to sort out what happened yesterday." He looked Harry in the eyes.

"What did happened yesterday? What were those cloaked things? And how in the bloody hell did we end up in the hospital room where I was born?!"

Harry nodded slowly, Dudley had a right to ask those questions. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. But then paused for a second, he thought muggles couldn't see Dementors…

"Wait, you saw them? The Dementors?" Harry asked.

Dudley looked at him. "Dementos? Are those the things that attacked us? What are they?"

Harry sighed before he responded. "Well, Dementors are sort of like monsters, but instead of eating people… the sort of suck out your soul."

Dudley's face was filled with horror at Harry. "They… they were going to suck out my soul?"

"Uh, yeah. It's sort of what Dementors do."

"Well, what in the bloody hell were they doing in Surry?"

Harry reached up and scratched his head, trying to think of how to properly explain it.

"Dudley, do remember how my parents were killed?"

Dudley nodded. "Yea, by some sort of terrorist bloke, right?"

"Yes… His name is Voldemort. You can kind of think of him as a wizarding version of Hitler, though that is not quite right."

"So this Voldemort bloke was a pretty big deal then, but he is gone now, right?"

"He was…" Harry paused, giving Dudley a serious look. "But he is back. He is the one who sent the Dementors after me."

His cousin's eyes bulged, and his face started to take back the red hue. "If he was back, the same bloke that killed your parents, how could you have come back for the summer?! You bloody selfish git! You could have gone and had me and my parents killed!" As Dudley stared at Harry he could see his hands tighten into fists, probably preparing to slug him in the face.

Then he spat out with a venom Harry didn't know that Dudley had.

"For all I know, my parents are dead!"

Harry put his hands up trying to calm his cousin down, and trying to prevent his face from being beaten into a bloody pulp.

"Dudley, the house is safe, it's protected. There is a magical barrier there to keep them safe, I promise, Vernon and Petunia are going to be just fine."

He waited, hoping Dudley wouldn't re-acquaint his fist with Harry's face. As much as he had teased Dudley yesterday for being a pansy and a wimp, he knew that Dudley could punch hard.

Harry watched Dudley closely, preparing himself if he had to dive out of the way. But Dudley held back. And after a few tense minutes, his hands slowly relaxed and his face smoothed out as fury left him.

When he was more composed, he spoke. "Fine. But I swear on my life that if I find out they were harmed because of you… there will be hell to pay."

He looked directly into Harry's eyes, making sure that he got the message.

As Dudley stared intently into his eyes, he maintained a calm expression, but inside, he was just a little bit freaked out. He knew that Dudley would be 'tough' when he wanted to be, but this was something else. He had NEVER expected this kind of reaction from his cousin.

Pee his pants? Sure. Hyperventilate? Probably. Squeal like a pig? Most definitely. But swear on his life that he would have revenge? This was new…

Harry nodded, signaling that he understood.

Finally, Dudley spoke again. "So what happened to us? If we were protected as you said, shouldn't we have been safe?" There was clearly an edge to his voice, telling Harry that he wasn't in the clear yet.

Harry thought for a second, thinking of how to explain it.

"The protection… You know those Star Trek shows you like to watch? It's like a shield surrounding the house, but it only goes so far. We were past the protected area."

"Okay. So what exactly was it that attacked us? And how did that get us back in the 1980's?"

Harry nodded and began explaining what had happened. What Dementors were, why he thought they were there, and possibly how they had sent them back in time. He took his time explaining everything, making sure that Dudley understood. Dudley wasn't fooling around with the 'freak' business anymore. He wanted to know.

After Harry had finished explaining, it was like Dudley deflated in front of him. All of the tension, aggression, and frustration left him like air out of a balloon. And Dudley was left looking tired and completely spent, weary from a long, long day.

He looked at Harry, exhaustion clearly written in his features.

"Harry… Are we ever going to get back home?" And then as his head slowly drifted down, he spoke in almost a whisper. "Am I ever going to see my family again?"

With those words, Harry felt his heart ache. Sure, the kid was an arrogant prick and sometimes Harry wished he was dead, but he had never seen his cousin like this. He had never seen him as an actual person with feelings, just as his cursed tormentor. He realized in that moment that somehow, he cared for his cousin. He was family.

Harry reached out and grabbed Dudley's shoulder. And looked him dead in the eyes.

"Dudley, I swear that I will do everything in my power to bring us back home. I swear it."

With those words, Dudley nodded. His eyes damp with unshed tears.

"We have had a long day Dudley, why don't you get some rest?"

As Harry's cousin drifted off to sleep, Harry watched him for a few moments, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but by the time sunlight was streaming through the window he was wide-awake and feeling mostly rested. After taking a moment to rub his eyes, he looked around the room and found a pair of clothes that had been laid on the end of the bed. Taking the clothes, Harry went into the bathroom to change and get ready for the crazy day he was sure that was about to happen.

* * *

It wasn't long before Agent Jones came for them, and spirited them off to a small cafeteria down the hall from where they had stayed the night. The kitchen was run by an aging house elf, Boo, who took no time at all to have Harry and Dudley seated before heaping piles of steaming food.

Agent Jones sat across from them, perusing a small stack of papers as the starving boys filled their stomachs.

"So Harry, should I ask how you got that nice shiner?"

Confused, Harry looked at the Agent with a bewildered glance, his mouth otherwise occupied trying desperately to follow in Ron's footsteps.

"You know, shiner… black eye?"

Harry swallowed, "Oh…" He wasn't sure exactly what to say, he glanced at Dudley only to see his larger cousin shrug his shoulders.

He glanced back to the Agent "Well… Dudley and I sort of came to an understanding last night."

Smith cocked his eyebrow. "Are fistfights how understandings are made in England these days?"

"Err... no?" The Agent laughed, glancing between the two young men with a smirk on his face.

"You two good?" They both nodded, hoping not to draw more attention.

"Good, I can't have my two top suspects killing each other off now can I?"

Harry responded hesitantly. "Eh, no sir…"

Smith looked up from his papers. "Relax Harry, I'm just trying to keep you on your toes."

Dudley coughed a bit as he swallowed a large mouthful of food.

Harry spoke up again. "Agent Jones, I know you're some kind of Auror or something, but what are you exactly?"

The agent nodded. "Well, in England, your Aurors are kind of like a specialty police officer. They focus mainly in fighting and catching dark wizards. Whereas your hit-wizards are more like old-fashioned officers. Here, our law enforcement is broken up a bit differently."

Here he coughed for a second clearing his throat and finished his glass of water.

"The Magical Bureau of Investigation, or MBI for short, has a bit of a broader field than what the Aurors of Britain do. We likewise pursue and detain dangerous dark wizards, however, we are also responsible for investigating matters of national security and ensuring the absolute adherence to the Statute of Secrecy and Rapport's Law."

He then eyed the two boys. "And that is why you are with me. Regardless how it happened, you two are in serious, and I mean a serious violation of the Statute."

Harry opened his mouth to begin defending himself, but Agent Jones cut him off.

"No, you don't need to go on the defensive there Harry. I just wanted the two of you to understand the seriousness of this situation. If it wasn't for your peculiar circumstances, we wouldn't be sitting here having this pleasant conversation over breakfast."

"Agent Smith Sir?"

"Go ahead, Dudley"

"What is going to happen to us? Are we going to be put on some sort of trial?"

The Agent smiled at the large but clearly nervous boy.

"No, probably not something of that large a scale at the moment. Due to the possible nature of what happened to you both yesterday. If your claim continues to check out, you will more than likely be placed under some sort of living arrangement until the Enigmians figure out what they are going to do with you."

Dudley nodded as he followed the officer's words. "So, what is going to happen to us today?"

Agent Jones picked up the papers he was reading and placed them in a folder.

"Well, as soon as you both have eaten your fill, we are going to take you somewhere where we can find out if you really are what you claim to be." He finished the sentence with a knowing glance.

"Due to the confidential nature of all of this, I can't say more at the moment. However, we will be going to the Office of Higher Inquiry, somewhere where they can take a closer look at the both of you".

After finishing packing the folder and a few other things into a briefcase, Agent Jones stood up and looked at the boys.

"If you're all finished up why don't we head out?"

Agent Jones lead Harry and Dudley down the corridor and down a few flights of stairs before they arrived in a small lobby area. Men and women in blue robes like Agent Jones were bustling about the place, some heading up and down different staircases and lifts, others flashing in and out of a few fireplaces.

"Agent Jones, where are we exactly? Is this the State's Ministry of Magic?"

Jones was scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone.

"No Harry, this is one of the Bureau's regional offices. Like the No-Maj America, there are fifty congressional states. But they are broken up into ten districts, and there is a regional office in each one…"

Agent Jones faded off as he caught someone's eye and waved someone over.

Before he knew it, Agent Smith was standing next to them with a big hand on his and Dudley's shoulder. The Agent's rather jovial grin was still rather disconcerting when compared to the fury that he had shown Harry yesterday.

"Ah, there you two are! You two ready to see the freakazoids?"

Dudley shot a nervous glance at Jones, the scared look on his usually 'intimidating' cousin giving Harry a small laugh. Dudley clearly wasn't too sure or confident about being involved in the magical world. Hearing a wizard refer to another as a freak probably didn't calm his nerves either.

Jones spoke up. "Don't listen to Smith Dudley, he's just one for the dramatic."

Agent Jones and Smith led them to the row of fireplaces on the other side of the room.

"Alright, lads, we are going to be taking the floo to the Congressional Building, and from there to the Office of Higher Inquiry."

Smith turned to Harry's cousin. "Now Dudley, I know you have little experience with magical travel, so here is what we are going to do. This here fireplace has been connected to what is called the floo network. You can kind of imagine that it's a phone plugged into the telephone network."

Here the Agent grabbed a pot off the rim of the fireplace and tilted it, showing the content to Dudley.

"This is floo powder. We simply toss it onto the flames, say the name of the place we are going and step right through after the flames have turned a nice shade of green. Make sense?"

Dudley's face showed everything besides comprehension.

"We… we are going to step into the fire?"

At that Smith nodded, keeping his large grin plastered on his face.

"That's it, not too complicated right?" As Dudley's expression showed no sign of improving, he turned to Harry and Jones.

"Alright, here is what we are going to do. Jones, go ahead and take Harry through, we will watch so Dudley here can get the right idea." Then he turned back to Dudley and gave the unusually large boy a confidant slap on the back.

"No need to worry! Just imagine that it's like some kind of teleportation of one of those television shows. You know what I mean?"

And as Dudley nodded, though slightly hesitant, Smith gestured for Jones and Harry to continue. Then giving Dudley a rather concerned look, due to the young man's now pale expression, he looked him in the eyes.

"Since this is your first time, let me give you a piece of advice. When we step through together, just go ahead and keep your eyes closed. And then when we take the step through, just take a nice long stride. Imagine that you're walking straight through instead of stepping into it. Think you can do that for me?"

Dudley nodded. They turned their attention to Agent Jones and Harry just in time to see Jones place his hand firmly on Harry's back, toss some green powder into the flames, and say clearly: "Congressional Lobby." And then Harry and Jones were gone.

Smith stepped up to the mantle of the fireplace, gently but firmly bringing Dudley with him. And after turning to Dudley he asked: "Ready?"

Dudley nodded and closed his eyes as tight as he could, his pale face screwed tight in apprehension.

Then, in a flash of green flames and quick step forward, they were gone.

* * *

 *****NEW SCENE*****

Silri sat crossed legged in her darkened room aboard the Merciless, the flagship of the Consortium. Since she had brutally killed the posturing Imperial Governor on Dathomir, her life had not gone as intended.

As promised by Tyber Zann, she had been given access to a great variety of resources. Namely, a vast library of histories and documents which had great promise of assisting her effort in access the secrets of the Sith Holocron.

Her experiences with a Holocron on Dathomir had been a great boon to her growth in strength, and development of power. With the secrets that she had learned, she eventually became her clan's champion, a manifestation of the spirit's might.

The ancient art of Wild Power, as used by her clan for centuries, was full of power and knowledge. But when she had found the Holocron in an ancient Sith academy, her eyes had been opened to the vast diversities of power that the Force offered. She had become stronger by learning from both paths of knowledge. But she knew she had only scratched the surface. There was far more for her to learn, and Silri craved that power.

She had learned what true power was, and for this reason, she sought it. Unlike the backstabbing fool Tyber who sought solely for material wealth.

Her relationship with Tyber and Urai had grown tense during the passing months. Namely due to her lack of success with the Holocron. Neither party liked the other, and the hostility was growing with time. Tyber's threats against her clan and people only compounded the issue.

The anger inside of her grew as her lack of success fueled the fires of her hate. There was great knowledge there, but she could not access it.

Once again, Silri reached forward and lightly placed her fingers once again on the side of the glowing Holocron, allowing the energies of the Fanged God to flow through her before bringing her hands to her lap.

The ruby light of the Holocron grew as cloaked figure flickered to life above the small pyramid.

"You have come before me again."

The figures voice was deep and carried with it echoes of unknown power.

"Some would admire your persistence when so far you have achieved nothing. Others would see it as foolishness."

The Guardian of the Holocron paused as if considering his own statement.

"How do you view your behavior child?"

His calm and superior voice grated upon Silri's patience. Over the past months, she had approached the Guardian countless times. And each time she walked away with nothing. Her temper flared to life as she answered the silent hologram.

"You filthy excuse for a Sith Lord! You appear before me, contempt in your eyes, the pride of power long forgotten in this Galaxy. You are dead, and that power with it!"

Her fury, her constant companion, raged inside her soul as she drew greatly on the power of the Fanged God. She thrust her power at the Holocron, attempting to beat the Guardian into submission.

"You stand there to judge me? With what do you judge but the hope to influence a Galaxy long beyond the grasp of your cold dead fingers! Your body has become ash, your followers disbanded, your legacy was all but forgotten! What Sith Lord is there to chase after your secrets? There are none! The last of them sits content on a throne of bureaucratic corruption, no need for your knowledge! So I ask you Sith Lord what do you gain from holding your secrets?"

When no answer came, she answered for him "Nothing…"

She let the silence hang in the air, her meager possessions scattered around the room by a maelstrom of power, evidence of her growing frustration.

"How do I view my behavior? I view it as one who seeks knowledge and power, unlike those who are content with what they have."

Her tirade finished, she watched the holographic Guardian, contempt strewn across her face.

The figure cocked his head, the barest hint of a smile flickering across his face.

"The bounds of your ambition are in no doubt. And the fierceness of your anger reflects that of a warrior. You are not one to sit idly by. But will you wait if you must? Not all is done in present time. You seek power? You shall find it in the stars."

With that statement, the Guardian disappeared and was replaced by a holographic image of the known Galaxy, slowly spinning above the artifact. The voice once again sounded through the artifact as several of the stars grew brighter and information scrawled beside them.

"Among these stars knowledge can be found, power also in your grasp, if with patience you find the path."

With triumphant joy, Silri studied the star chart before her. Many of these systems she knew, while others she didn't. With the complexities of hyperspace travel and astronavigation, it would take her some time to analyze this information, and find what had been hidden by the Sith Lord.

Patience was not her greatest attribute, but if it meant revenge against the empire and power, then she was willing to seek it.

She would have to reveal part of this to Tyber, but definitely not all...

Her time with Tyber Zann was coming to an end.

 *****END NEW SCENE*****


	5. Chapter 4 - Updated

**Disclaimer:** We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.

 *****Updated Feb.6 2017*****

 **Authors Note:**

-First, a reviewer mentioned that the MBI agents never pointed out Harry's accent. We updated it and fixed that up a bit. It was one of those things where it was in our heads, but somehow never made it into the actual dialogue.

-Wand Permits: If any of you were confused, and were wondering what the heck that was about and why we didn't explain it, we included several links on our site. Recently J.K. Rowling released several articles about what the Magical world of America is like. Wand permits were a large part of those articles, somethings Americans did to further separate No-Majs from wizards. The vast majority of our details about Magical America all come from those articles (with the exception of the MBI, that was our brainchild). So wand permits are actually CANNON. Please check out those articles if you want to know more! :)

- **Website Update:** This chapter also has a companion post on our website, read it at: siblingsgrimm .weebly .com (remove spaces).

* * *

 **One week later.…**

On the thirty-ninth floor of the American Congressional Building, Harry Potter sat in a rather uncomfortable seat outside of Judicial hearing room two. The hall he sat in was lined with similar chairs, all of them rather narrow and squat, clearly not designed for comfort. His cousin sat next to him, the chair struggling to contain his large bulk. Across from them, they could see through the windows that looked into the main atrium of the building, several floors below.

The tension in the air was thick, suspension hung over their heads as they waited to hear the result of the hearing.

Since their unexpected and rather unprecedented arrival back in time, Harry and his cousin had been through quite a barrage of investigations and experiments, and the time for a decision had come.

Because of the… uniqueness of their trial, a private hearing had been selected over a more standard public trial. At eight o'clock that morning, Agents Jones and Smith had convened with Director Vasquez of the MBI, and Judge Shin, a court-appointed mediator, and since that time had been reviewing the peculiar case of Harry and his cousin.

Harry and Dudley had been allowed to sit in the back of the room, to listen to the proceedings, but they had to wait until the appointed time to present their testimony of what had happened. They had heard and read first-hand accounts of the incident at the hospital and had also been presented with the numerous details of Agent Jones and Smith's investigation into what had happened. The research and findings of the Enigmians playing an important role.

Due to how seriously the Magical Congress of America took the Statute of Secrecy and Rapport's law, the Enigmians findings were the only significant evidence that was keeping them from being thrown into the Wilds, the American wizarding prison.

Several weeks ago, when they had traveled to the Congressional building, Harry and his cousin had been subjected to a dizzying array of new sights and bizarre experiments.

Harry had never been to the Ministry of Magic in England, but if it was anything close to what he had seen in the Congressional building, he was sure it was a sight to behold. The moment that he had stepped through the floo, he had arrived in a brilliantly lit atrium filled with bustling people moving in and out of the building.

The ceiling was vast and extremely vaulted, reaching nearly 200 meters above him. Radiant light seemed to pour magically down from the ceiling, descending gradually downward.

The golden walls of the lobby continued upward, merging into windows of what he had guessed must be offices encircling the vast open space. There was really only one way to describe it, majestic.

Harry and his cousin were then shepherded to a glass elevator that stood out among a row of more normal looking lifts. As they shuffled into the glass elevator and the doors closed, the lift shot up at incredible speeds, rocketing towards the roof of the building.

In less than a few seconds, they had lost sight of the grand open space of the center of the building, passing numerous floors, and slowed to a stop. As the elevator stopped, an all-white lobby, filled with a bright light was visible beyond the glass. A female voice spoke, identifying it as the Office of Higher Inquiry.

After they had checked in with some sort of secretary, they had passed the doors of the hallway and entered the room beyond… if you could call it a room. Harry had expected to enter some kind of waiting room, like some sort of Doctor's office. But rather, they had stepped through the door into what had appeared to be a mountain meadow.

It turned out that as a measure of security, the entirety of the Office of Higher Inquiry was put under a series of complex illusions to appear to be a forest in the Appalachian Mountains, with only the Enigmians being able to lead one from place to place without getting lost.

After an exhausting barrage of tests, the white-robed individuals had announced that Harry and his cousin radiated temporal energy in a quantity never before seen. Then, after the Enigmians had a few days to analyze the tests, they had determined that Harry and Dudley had indeed traveled through a great space of time, though from where and when they could not magically determine.

Agent Smith had assured Harry that this information should be enough to secure a solid foundation in the hearing.

The Director and Judge Shin had remained quiet for most of the hearing, occasionally asking questions to clarify their understanding. But Harry could see no outward expression that revealed their inner feelings. When he had been asked to come forward and give his testimony, he did so completely unsure of his fate.

And now, they had been asked to wait outside while the Director and Judge had a few minutes to consult with the Agents.

The sound of a door opening brought Harry out of his self-reflection. Startled, he looked up to see Agent Jones and Agent Smith walk out of the hearing room.

"Any news?" Agent Smith shook his head. "Not yet, kid, they are going to take a few minutes to talk it over, though ultimately the decision falls to the judge."

Harry nodded, and then let his head fall back onto the wall behind him. Why did these things always happen to him? He sighed, wishing he had Ron there to lighten the mood a bit and keep his mind off of what was happening behind the door. As quirky and judgmental as Ron could be at times, he was his friend, and Harry missed the bloke.

A few minutes later the door again opened and Director Vasquez gestured for them all to come in.

"Why don't you come in, Judge Shin has a come to a final decision."

Harry and Dudley stood up and followed the Hispanic Director into the small hearing room. Judge Shin, a middle-aged woman dressed in black Judge robes, gestured to the seats across from the desk she was seated behind."

"Mr. Dursley, Mr. Potter, why don't you take a seat?"

Rather nervous, they both sat down, while the Director took a seat next to the Judges desk. Judge Shin took up a piece of paper, and looked up at Harry, and then over to his cousin.

"Mr. Dursley, Mr. Potter, you have both put me in a rather interesting situation. The matter of extended time travel from the future is quite significant, and holds heavy implications for not just your future and the welfare of this country, but for the future of the world as a whole."

She paused for a moment, looking back down at the paper in her hand.

"And of course, there is also the matter of the serious breach of the International Statute of Secrecy. Regardless of how the offense came about, the Magical Congress is responsible and is being held accountable by the International Confederation of Wizards for this breach. Fortunately, the No-Maj government has bought the idea of a bombing, and has proceeded as thus, leaving us relatively little cleanup."

Here she put the paper down, and sat up straight, looking directly and Harry and his cousin.

"Therefore, as of July 21st, Nineteen Eighty, you are both to be placed under magical custody, in the care of one Barbara Vance, under the close supervision of the Magical Bureau of Investigation. Mr. Potter, your wand will remain in the custody of said guardian for use in emergencies only. Mr. Dursley, it is usually the opinion of this court to erase from the memory of magical events of all nonmagicals. However, due to the nature of this matter, you will remain with your cousin under the custody of said guardian."

Judge Shin, cleared her throat.

"The purpose of said guardianship is to provide you a place to stay while you undergo further investigation and review by the Office of Higher Inquiry. Their purpose will be to investigate the possibility of returning you to your time. Aside from these interactions with the MBI and Office of Higher Inquiry, and minimal exposure to the No-Maj community, you are forbidden to interact with the rest of the world, and the option of your integration into this period of time is an absolute no."

Reaching forward, she picked up the gavel on her desk.

"And finally, if the Enigmians can not find a way to return you within a period of six months, you will be given the Draught of Living Death, to await the moment of departure from your timeline."

And with those words, she struck the gavel, signifying her final decision.

* * *

 **December 29th, 1980**

Barbara Vance, a rather spry fifty-two year old, lived in a quaint country home on the outskirts of Dayton, Texas. After Harry's trial some months ago, Agent Jones had taken them down to the lobby where they had been introduced to Miss Vance. The lady was about one and a half meters tall and seemed to radiate happiness in a way that was almost palpable. Harry had found out in short order, that though this Witch was over fifty years old, she had plenty of energy.

After she had graduated from Illvermorny, Miss Vance had become an agent with the MBI, only to retire a few years later having decided that law enforcement was not her cup of tea.

Instead, she had taken up work as a private tutor and occasional substitute Defense against the Dark Arts professor.

And as she had never married, she was apparently the perfect candidate to watch after time traveling teenagers.

In all honesty, since the trial several months ago, Harry had found himself rather bored. The sudden change from hiding hero to time traveling terrorist had been quite eventful, but now, the long and lonely months of house arrest had started to wear on him. With only Miss Vance's tutoring sessions to keep him and his cousin occupied, Harry had truly begun to mourn for the absence of his friends.

Yes, they weren't dead or anything, but he might as well be in their perspective. Would he ever get to see them again? Or would they live out the rest of their lives wondering what had happened to their friend?

If he could just talk to one of them, if only for a few seconds… Merlin, he wouldn't even mind talking Dobby for a bit. As much as he cared for the House Elf, the little bloke had a way of really weirding Harry out.

Harry glanced up from where he was sitting. He was in a richly decorated living room, a Christmas tree across from him in the corner of the room. Seated in a big, poofy armchair, Harry had been enjoying a nice afternoon nap.

As the holiday had approached, he and his cousin had become rather sullen, reminded of their loss by absent friends and family. Miss Vance had done her very best to help them enjoy the Holiday, doing all sorts of things to help cheer them up. And so it was that just a few days ago they had enjoyed a small Yuletide celebration.

It was far from the first Christmas that Harry had spent without his friends, but he missed them all the same. Christmas morning just didn't feel quite right without the notes from Ron, Hermione, and Sirius.

Harry was grateful, however, for the few gifts he had been given. A few treats from Miss Vace, a few pieces of sorely needed clothing, and even a card from Agents Jones and Smith.

It was later in the afternoon, getting about the time that Miss Vance would usually call him and Dudley in for Supper. Across the room, his cousin was lounging next to the tree, reading an issue of Boxing Monthly that Miss Vance strangely had a subscription to. Since their unexpected trip a few months ago, Dudley had actually adjusted better than Harry could have ever thought. Magic still wasn't his favorite thing in the whole world, but he didn't hate it either. And with all of the odd things that Miss Vance had around her small house, it was a small miracle that Dudley hadn't exploded in the first month. One could say that Dudley had a sort of truce with the magical word, he wouldn't bother it if it didn't to anything too crazy to bother him.

And with their trips to the Enigmians every week, that was saying something. Since their first trip to the Office of Higher Inquiry, Harry had found himself subjects to all sorts of odd tests. And through all of those truly odd tests, they had discovered many things. For example, they had found that compared to the normal witch or wizard, Harry and his cousin had nearly ten times the level of temporal energy they would expect to find. This 'leftover' energy as they called it, had several odd effects on their physical makeup.

First, they found that this energy was slowly dissipating from their bodies, leaking out into the world around them, leaving an actual trail of sorts. Second, this leaking energy had placed their bodies in a temporal loop. From what one of the Enigmians had tried to explain, he had likened it to moving your hand through a big pile of sand. You could do it, but it took a lot longer than it would to normally move your hand. In more detail, he said that their very cells were experiencing a similar process. While their bodies could take in food, exert energy, and move like normal, their aging had come to almost a complete standstill. After the Enigmians had run the arithmancy, they had informed them that until the energy was depleted, for every seven years, they would age one.

Yet, as interesting as that was, it didn't really matter.

Why? Because in the five months since they had arrived, they had not found a way to send them back to their time. And in less than four weeks, they would be given the Draught of Living Death. To avoid further 'contamination' of the time stream. How did they even know if they could be revived after fifteen years? Harry had never heard of anyone being under the draught for that long. As far as he knew, these could be the last weeks of his life.

Harry sighed. All this time alone to his thoughts really wasn't good for him. Whenever he had too much time to think it really didn't take to long before his thoughts were pulled to a darker place.

Deciding that he had enough moping for one day, Harry stood up and stretched, enjoying the pleasant after-nap feeling. Seeing that Dudley was still engrossed in his magazine, Harry walked towards the kitchen, expecting to find Miss Vance in the middle of cooking dinner, as was her habit.

However, when he arrived, he found her seated at the kitchen table, the last light of afternoon sun giving illuminating the pages of a dusty book. It was moments like these where Miss Vance reminded him of Hermione. It was mostly the image, though, that reminded him of his friend. Regardless of the fact that she was a tutor, one would never find Miss Vance reading any sort of school book, oh no. Miss Vance's taste in books was rather odd… much like the woman herself.

Before he had first met her, Agent Smith had commented on her energetic and kind nature, but he had also mentioned her tendency toward eccentricity. He had assured them that it was never anything truly disturbing, she just had her odd quirks and phases.

Harry had found these words to be very true. Miss Vance was something of a conspiracy theorist. Not one of those weird half-drunk wackos that you would expect to find at some comic-con, but someone who always questioning the norm, trying to find out what really was 'true'. It was comedic mostly, giving them quite a laugh on a few occasions.

He glanced at the title of the novel in her hands 'The Apollo Farce: An exhibition of lies and scandal". Ah, she must have found a new topic then, the American missions to the moon. It was better than the last one he supposed, one can only tolerate so much about aliens and UFOs. Dudley had once made the mistake of asking her how she could believe in aliens, and several hours later he had sworn to Harry that he would never ask the woman another question the rest of his days.

"Are you just going to stand there dear? Or did you have something on your mind? A little curious about the moon perhaps?"

She must have noticed his attention on the book in her hands.

"Er… not really." He managed to get out, not wanting to offend the woman. "I just came in here to see what was for Supper?"

Miss Vance's eyes lit up, and she put down the book, her attention moving to a more interesting topic.

"Excellent question Harry, I was thinking we would go out tonight. It has been awhile since you and Dudley got the chance to be outside."

She stood up and pushed in her chair. "And besides, I won't tell if you won't." She gave Harry one of her almost Grandma-esk smiles. "Why don't you go get your cousin while I grab my purse."

She scurried off, and Harry smiled, amused by the woman's antics. Heading back to the living room he tossed a nearby pillow at Dudley's seated form.

"Hey! Wha' was that for?"

"Miss Vance wants us to meet her out at the car, she wants to go out for supper."

A grin split Dudley's face, and he tossed the magazine to the side and stood.

"It's about bloody time. I feel like if I spend another moment in here I'm going to turn into a fat hibernating bear or somethin."

"Dudley, you're already a fat bear. And it has nothing to do with being cooped up in here. It's just your nature."

Dudley shot a fake punch at Harry, and he backed up a few steps. They may have become a bit closer due to the whole 'being stuck in time with the only person you know' deal, but Harry felt like it was his duty to take shots at his cousin when he could.

Life just wouldn't feel quite right if Dudley didn't know how pig-like he was, courtesy of Harry of course.

They threw on their trainers and met Miss Vance out on the driveway in the front of her house as she backed her aging Oldsmobile Cutlass out of the garage. The car was nice enough for its age, its blue exterior still shined and buffed. For as abnormal as Miss Vance could be at times, her love for her old car was a splash of normality in an otherwise odd woman.

Harry sat in the back, knowing it was better to sit there rather than hear Dudley grip about being cramped in the back.

After Dudley hoped into the front, Miss Vance began to back up, and head down the street.

"Alright boys, I know this really nice Diner on the edge of Houston, just a few minutes away. They have this pot roast that is absolutely to die for! Oh, and I can't forget their blueberry pie, I tell you that you will never have anything as good in your life. Why just before you boys came to stay with me I was over there and I this old man told me….."

Miss Vance continued to prattle away, as the energetic woman was prone to doing, Harry allowed his attention to drift, enjoying the change in scenery. One could only tolerate being cooped up for so long.

* * *

Miss Vance was right, the blueberry pie had been quite delicious. Harry had never actually had the desert before, partially courtesy of the Dursleys treatment and partially due to the treacle tart, he preferred at Hogwarts. But the experience had been worth it, much to Miss Vance's delight.

Thus, Harry found himself stuffed on a rather delicious burger and Blueberry pie, seated again in the back of Miss Vance's car. They had a nice Diner, a great break from the truly endless monotony that was house arrest.

It was getting late, the sun had set quite a bit ago, and the two-lane highway they were on was otherwise deserted. They were on a back country road, one Miss Vance preferred because its tendency to be much less busy than the main highway.

During the day, it was usually a very beautiful drive due to the dense trees on both sides of the road. But at night, Harry enjoyed watching the planes that would often fly high above the road as they headed towards the Houston Airport.

Dudley and Miss Vance were in a particularly intense conversation on the finer aspects of boxing when out of the window Harry noticed a light in the distance. He watched it through the window as the airplane approached from a distance, it's light slowly getting brighter as the minutes passed by.

As the road ahead of them began to weave back and forth, Harry lost sight of the plane among the trees around them.

Gradually, Harry began to hear the loud and reverberating 'thump thump thump' of a helicopter.

Dudley's and Miss Vance's conversation stilled as they heard it too. Harry craned his neck, trying to better view of the night sky as he spoke up.

"That sounds awfully close… you reckon that it's headed to the airport?"

Miss Vance and Dudley were likewise looking out their windows, trying to spot the low-flying copter. Then, from above the trees, Harry spotted a formation of three, slim helicopters burst out from above the trees, flying north, away from them.

From the front seat, he heard Dudley speak up. "Bloody Hell, those are Apaches! Military copters! What are they doing out here!?"

Miss Vance wouldn't be having any of that. "Dudley! I will not be having your swear in my car!" And then after taking a breath.

"And besides, it's not like it is that abnormal. I know there is some sort of air base just south of Houston. They are probably just doing maneuvers of some kind."

This response to seemed to placate Dudley, who settled down and began to resume his conversation with Miss Vance.

Harry had never seen Helicopters like that before, though he admired their sleek appearance and dangerous looking armament.

He turned his attention back to the window, planning on enjoying the last bit of the outdoors before they were forced to return to house arrest.

A few minutes later, though, Harry again spotted what appeared to be the same light as before. Though this time it was much closer and brighter than the typical planes he would usually see. Reaching forward, he tapped his cousin on the shoulder, again interrupting his conversation.

He gestured out the window. "Hey Dudley, check out this plane. What do you think it is doing so close to the road?"

Dudley turned and peered out the passenger side window, looking at the light Harry had gestured to. And as Miss Vance continued to drive, the light drew closer and closer, until he began to see a faint outline in the darkness.

Dudley spoke up. "Harry… that's no plane I've ever seen."

And Dudley was right. What now seemed to be flying beside them, some sixteen meters in the air was what appeared to be an upside down diamond, its base surrounded by some six or seven bright engines, pointed outward at an angle, rather than towards the ground.

As the road they were on curved away from the strange plane, the flames on the far side burned brighter, bringing the craft towards their car.

Over the next few moments, Harry sat absolutely fascinated as the craft drew closer and closer toward their moving car. But as it began to come closer, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

"Miss Vance, I'm not getting a good feeling about this… could you drive a bit faster?"

Harry watched as she quickly glanced up at the plane thing. "I don't think that's a bad idea."

The car suddenly accelerated forwards as Miss Vance disregarded the speed limit and tried to pull away from the approaching craft.

But as the car began to accelerate, straining to break away from the floating thing, a dull blue light sprung from the side of the craft and struck the front of the car.

And with a bright flare of the car lights and a few dying coughs, the engine suddenly quit, and the car began to automatically slow down.

The craft them passed over them, taking a position on the car's left, as the vehicle continued to coast.

Dread suddenly began to knot at the base of his stomach as the car's speed began to noticeably slow.

Reaching into her bag, Miss Vance pulled out a length of wood and handed it to Harry. His wand!

Miss Vance then spoke up, her voice filled with a steel edge he had never heard from her before. She took a glance at them before focusing on the road.

"Boys, we have just a few second before this car stops. On the count of three, you are going to pop the doors and roll out of the car."

Harry broke in, interrupting her. "But what about you!?"

She quickly responded, not wasting any time. "I will distract them."

Looking desperate, Dudley shot out this time. "Them?! Who are they?!"

"One." Miss Vance didn't show any signs of answering. Her voice was determined, focused on the task before her.

"Two." Harry's heart clenched as he grabbed the door handle, his wand securely held in his left.

The tension rose and time seemed to slow.

"Three!"

Harry thumbed the door release and threw his weight on the door as he heard Miss Vance yell something, her wand in hand.

As they he fell from the car it sped off, propelled by some magical force. Miss Vance doing what she could to draw their attention.

The fall was short, and the landing hard. Harry landed and tumbled off the road and onto the shoulder, his body rolling and twisting in painful ways.

Harry groaned, he had come to a stop on his side, and his body aching and burning from where he had scraped the road. It could have been worse he supposed, the car had been going much slower when they had bailed.

Opening his eyes, he glanced downward and was relieved to see that miraculously, his wand was intact.

He then glanced up, toward the sky… and his heart was suddenly gripped with fear.

There, floating not four meters away was the craft. It had stopped, it hadn't followed Miss Vance…

Struggling through the pain, Harry watched as the ship lowered towards the ground, and a section of the ship opened up to reveal a ramp that lowered until it was firmly on the ground.

Not pausing to look on anymore, Harry struggled to his feet, looking around for Dudley. He spotted him barely two meters in front of him, in the direction of the ship…

Harry stumbled forward, cursing under his breath as his legs screamed in pain. Glancing up, he saw several human shaped things dressed brown robes rush out of the ship. As they came forward he noticed that instead of mouths, the creatures lower faces were covered in worm-like tentacles. The things had creamy white skin, their heads bulbous with large black eyes.

Two of them rushed forward and grabbed Dudley, yanking him harshly back toward their ship.

Dudley looked up desperately and caught Harry's eyes.

"Harry! RUN!"

But as the creatures hauled Dudley towards their ship, Harry raised his wand.

"Depulso!"

A bolt of white light streaked from Harry's wand and nailed the creature on Dudley left, causing it to fly backward towards its ship. Looking at the next one, Harry threw his power into the next one.

"Reducto!"

The curse flew true and hit the second creature, causing it to instantly explode into a blue mist and white chunks as the creatures but was reduced to nothing.

Screeches suddenly filled the air as the creatures next to the ship surged toward Harry. While several sprinted toward him, he sent off a few more curses, and then ducked as a bolt of blue energy flew by him.

Looking for the ship, he saw several of the creatures raising strange looking guns before a second bolt hit him in the chest, causing him to stagger and drop his wand. A second later he found himself on his knees, feeling as if his body had been suddenly turned off.

As the creatures came forward, they grabbed him roughly and began to pull him away. But with the sudden sound of shouting, he looked up to see Miss Vance running towards him, firing spells at the creatures around him.

Again, they raised their weapons and fired. Blue light raced toward Miss Vance, hitting her in the chest and head. The witch dropped, several meters from where they were.

Suddenly filling with anger, Harry shrugged off the forced fatigue and struggled with his captors, managing to temporarily break free and slug one in the face before being restrained again.

He was forced backward, wiry hands holding him back with a vice-like grip. One of the creatures stepped toward him, raising his weapon at Harry's head.

And as he began to hear a familiar 'thump thump thump', blue light sprang from the weapon and hit him in the head, sending him into darkness.

* * *

 **Two days later**

Director Vasquez eyed the report in his hand, his mind uncertain as it read the details in from of him. Raising a skeptical eyebrow he looked up at the two agents across from him.

"And your sure on the accuracy of this report?

The stoic agent responded in a grim, but confirmatory tone.

"Yes, Sir. We repeated the interview under Veritaserum and then reviewed the memory of the event. She is telling the truth. Well, the truth as far as she sees it."

The Director put the report down.

"You suspect her memories might have been tampered with?"

"Personally, no, I do not. If the memory we viewed was tampered with, then it was done so by a professional of a caliber which I have never seen."

His partner then spoke. "Sir, we also interviewed several others. While no one in the direct area saw the strange craft, many people saw several groups of military helicopters circling the area."

Then gesturing towards the evidence bag on the Director's desk he spoke again.

"And when we recovered the boy's wand from the scene, prior incantation also confirmed the spells the witness saw fired at the… things."

The Director nodded.

"Alright. I want you to put a search out for the missing boys." And then tapping the report in front of him. "But I will handle this. You two may go."

After the two agents had left, the Director grimaced. If he hadn't seen the memory himself, he doubted he would have believed the report he just read. And that went without mentioning his friendship with Barbara. She may be slightly eccentric at times, but she definitely wasn't crazy.

He wasn't getting the answers he wanted. And that left him with an option that he didn't enjoy.

Reaching into a hidden compartment of his desk, Director Vasquez grabbed a small replica of the Statue of Liberty. Placing it on his desk, he touched his wand to its small torch and watched as its stone torch began to shine brightly.

In an office similar to the one in which he sat, another torch, exactly like the one in front of him, lit up with an identical glow.

Director Vasquez waited, waiting till his watch had signified that exactly ten minutes had passed. He then reached forward and swiped up the small statue.

"A pretium libertatis"

And in a swirl of multicolored light, Director Vasquez found himself standing in a similar room, approximately 230 miles southwest of his New York office.

Seated in front of him, dressed in a dark brown suit, was a white man with brown hair parted on the side.

He spoke, a question written on his face.

"I have not heard from you in sometime Director Vasquez."

Quirking his eyebrow he responded.

"I could say the same to you, Director Webster."

The man nodded.

"I assume this is important?"

Director Vasquez nodded and handed the man the report he had received.

"Two days ago, two young men under the care of one of our agents disappeared. We have exhausted our means, which are vast, and we have found nothing. The boys disappeared under what we would call unnatural circumstances."

After a quick glance over the report, he looked up.

"Unnatural? From you, that is saying something."

Director Vasquez nodded.

"The disappearance of these boys is very concerning. In the wrong hands, with the knowledge they hold, there could be serious consequences. I need to know if you know anything about what had happened. Your Bureau seems to have a good hold on this particular matter."

The Director in front of him pursed his lips and paused for a few seconds. He then stood up and handed the file back to Director Vasquez. He pushed his chair into his desk and walked to a filing cabinet, and ruffled through some files, before removing a few pieces of paper.

He handed one of the papers to Director Vasquez.

"This is a list of similar disappearances. Are any of them of your sort?"

Director Vasquez looked over the list, attempting to identify the names. The list was quite long, dating back at least fifteen years ago. Recognizing none he shook his head.

"No. I recognize none of these names."

The man nodded and then handed him a second piece of paper.

"These are the details that we know. A few times every year, for the past several years, there are a string of similar disappearances across the world. They are all of the same particular type. Very similar to your problem. None of the victims have ever been seen or heard from again. They simply disappear."

He handed a final piece of paper to the Director.

"This came to me yesterday. Another occurrence. It started on the west coast and moved east. Stopping in Texas. I believe that this answers your question?"

After a moment of review, Director Vasquez handed the papers back to Director Webster.

"I'm assuming that the presence of attack helicopters was intended to repel the intruders?"

Director Webster nodded as he placed the papers on his desk.

"In these situations, we coordinate heavily with the Department of Defense. But regrettably, nothing is ever fast enough."

Director Vasquez mulled his words over, concern clearly showing on his face. He reached out and shook his counterpart's hand.

"That is all that I needed to know. Thank you, Director."

The man nodded.

With a step back, and with a swirl of light, Director Vasquez was gone.

* * *

As consciousness slowly returned, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Out of all of the vile and putrid things that Harry had come across in his life, this was in a class all of its own.

From one who had smelled the body odor of a troll and the stale and rotting air of the Chamber of Secrets, that was saying something. Never before had he smelled anything so completely nauseating.

With his very first conscious breath, as the smell of rotten death and fresh fecal matter invaded his senses, Harry vomited. Fortunately, Harry was laying on his side at the time, and after a few rounds of vomiting, whatever had been in his stomach was now on the floor.

After a few moments of struggling to breathe, Harry opened his eyes and was met with darkness and shadows. Around him, he could hear others in the dark: some crying, others muttering to themselves, while the rest either moaned or remained absolutely silent.

After a few minutes of consciousness, Harry's head began to echo with a dull rough ache.

He shifted his arm underneath him and struggled to raise himself to a seated position, his arm sliding around on the slick and grimy floor. He winced as he struggled to move, each jerky motion making his headache spike.

Eventually, he managed to maneuver himself against the wall behind him, the many forms pressed around him making it difficult to move.

Harry took a moment after repositioning himself, trying to orient himself. He took a shallow breath, doing his best not to take in too much of the rotten air, not wanting to bring on another round of vomiting. Cautiously running his hands up and down himself, he found that his shirt was missing, but he still had on his jeans and trainers, though now smeared with the grime and filth that covered the floor and walls. And he couldn't seem to find his wand…

His hands scrambled in his pockets, and then on the slick floor around him, desperately hoping to find his wand.

A few heart-pounding moments led to a few minutes, and then reality slowly began to dawn upon him, he didn't have his wand.

Temporarily defeated, Harry slumped onto the wall behind him. Where was he? How had he arrived in this disgusting place? He tried to concentrate, despite the raging hippogriff tearing apart his skull. The last thing he remembered… he remembered summer at the Dursley's, and the whole debacle with the time turner…. There was more too, much more… but he sighed, his head pounding, and gave his mind a break for a moment.

Looking around Harry saw that he could see more than when he first woke up. It was still incredibly dark, but he could see the faint difference between the outlines of bodies, and the darkness of empty space above them. They were in some kind of holding chamber, one that must be very large as he couldn't see where the wall he rested upon ended in either direction. However, whether that was from the darkness, or the true size of the room he could not tell. Above him in the darkness he could see faint specks of light, almost like stars, but not as plentiful. And there definitely wasn't any breeze to suggest they were actually out in the open.

After some time had passed, his eyes had adjusted more readily to the faint light emitted from above. Before this had happened, he had been with someone… they had been driving somewhere… Dudley had been in the front, and Miss Vance had been driving. Miss Vance…. Where were they… were they here in this place?

Harry took in a bit of a deeper breath, and spoke in almost a whisper, though the whisper was plenty loud in this near quite.

"Dudley, are you there? Miss Vance!"

No answers. He looked at the crumpled forms around him, trying to discern their forms from the masses around him. As far as he could tell none of them looked like them, but he couldn't truly be sure in this low light.

He struggled to his feet, cautious not to slip as he steadied himself on two feet. And as he gradually got his balance, he began to walk among his fellow captives… prisoners? He didn't even know what they were.

As he stumbled his way through the mess of slumped forms, he occasionally paused to catch his breath and call out for his cousin and guardian. Occasionally he would bump into someone or slip and fall, causing others to let out a few curses and muttered profanities. But mostly everyone was silent. He didn't think they were dead, the few times he had fallen he had felt their chests rising and falling.

Progress was slow, people pressed up so closely as to provide very room to navigate. But in a few minutes, he reached an empty space, a pathway of sorts where no one was lying. He thought it a bit, odd. There was nothing to differ that ground from the ground everyone was laying on, it was all covered in waste.

As he walked along the path, his traveling now much easier, he drew closer to one of the dim lamps above. Intrigued, he looked to those on the other side of the path and paused… what he saw was definitely not what he was expecting

The huddled group he had come from had consisted of people of all walks and all ages. Men and women, grown men and children, black and white, there didn't really seem to be a selecting factor.

But what he saw now, wasn't something that he had ever expected to see. And coming from a wizard that was quite a statement, for in front of him was a view, unlike anything he had seen before.

The people were humanoid in a vague sense of the word. Meaning they had two arms and legs, they had a head also, two eyes, a mouth, and a nose. But that was not what threw him off. They were completely covered in green scales.

From what he could tell there was a group of thirty or so, all of them clumped together. They had no hair whatsoever, and their teeth were sharp, like that of a predator. He stared at them for a few moments, trying to figure out what they were. Perhaps they were some sort of magical race in America that he was not aware of?

Unable to come to any other conclusion, he began to continue down the path, leaving the odd reptilian people to themselves. Beyond them, he could see what looked like a very wide ramp leading upwards, though he noticed that everyone stayed plenty far from it.

He turned and continued walking, calling out again for his cousin and guardian. As the path curved around the group Harry had come from, he came across another group, separated like the reptilian people had been.

For a second, Harry nearly went into a panic as a face turned towards him and he was met with a familiar, all to noseless face.

Fear surged through him, but after a few seconds, he realized that was where the semblance to Voldemort stopped. The people before him, all had very broad faces and heads, almost as if they had been stretched. And they all had hair covering their cheeks, even the women…

Before Harry came around to the other side of the human group, he had come across no less than three or four races of beings that he had never before seen or heard of.

This was getting really odd. One magical humanoid race he had never heard of? Sure, that could happen, probably even two. But this many? And it wasn't like he was seeing things of human legend, centaurs, mermaids, vampires etc. things that he had heard and read about in stories since he was a child. He was familiar with those, and it wasn't too great a shock to a once newly discovered wizard that they were real. But these people… they weren't anything he had ever heard of. It was almost as if no one knew they existed.

Getting tired, Harry tried calling a few more times. This time daring to draw a deeper breath and choke out a bit of a louder call.

"Dudley! Miss Vance! Are you here?"

Pausing to listen, he thought he heard someone call back. He tried again.

"Dudley?" And this time an answer, coming somewhere from his left, deeper in the huddle of men and women.

"Harry? Harry, is that you?"

Scrambling with the last of his energy, Harry made his way passed the huddled people and toward his cousin's voice.

And then, before him, he saw the dim outline of his cousin Dudley. And strangely, he was glad to see him.

After he managed to maneuver his way next to him, he managed to sit down in a cramped space between some sleeping lady and his cousin.

"Harry! Where were you? I have been back and forth across this place a few times looking for you! I thought they might have offed you!"

He couldn't quite make out every detail of Dudley's face, but he could hear the concern in his voice. Concern that he hand never heard from his cousin before.

"I'm not exactly sure… I woke up maybe a half hour ago, someplace on the other side of these people." He gestured toward the direction he had come.

"Dudley, where are we? What happened? Where is Miss Vance, is she here somewhere? I remember we were driving in the car somewhere, and the next thing I know I'm vomiting all over the floor..."

His cousin paused, waiting a moment before he answered. "You mean you don't remember? You don't remember how we ended up here?"

Harry responded, trying to make his confused thoughts as clear as he could.

"Yes? No? I remember dark shapes, a blue flash, I don't know… " He paused and brought a hand to his head. "I woke up with a raging headache… I can't really think clearly."

He could see his cousin nod, accepting his answer.

"I guess that makes sense… when they got us you put up a pretty good fight, tried to take um' down with some of your magic. But two of 'em managed to grab you and another shot you in the head with some kind of ray thing."

Dudley looked at him. "Harry, I thought they killed you."

By this point, Harry was really confused. "Who captured us, Dudley? Were they dark wizards? is that why they have all the people here? What do they want?"

As Harry grew more insistent and focused, his headache begins to grow and grow, eventually leaving him like his head was about to split open. And as his face grew contorted with the pain, Dudley reached forward and took his shoulder.

"Take it easy there... I'm not sure what they hit you with when they shot you, but you are going to hurt yourself. I used to see it in boxers back home when they'd push themselves too hard. Breathe a bit, no need to make it worse."

Harry breathed, holding his head as his headache slowly receded. Eventually, Dudley spoke again.

"Harry, when you walked over here, did you see the creatures?"

Harry nodded, he had indeed seen the strange people. His cousin adjusted himself, so he could get a better look at Harry in the dark twilight.

"Look, Harry, I'm not sure what those things are. And I don't know who it is that took us. But I can tell you one thing, they aren't human."

He locked eyes with Harry. "Do you see what I'm gettin' at? They weren't from earth Harry, they are from someplace else…"

He paused

"Someplace… alien."

* * *

Note: And before any of you ask. No, Miss Vance did NOT betray them. They distraction just didn't work. I guess that's what happens when you're dealing with technology thousands of years more advanced than your own...


	6. Chapter 5 - New Chapter

Disclaimer: We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.

 **Recommend reading in ¾ or ½ paragraph style**

***IMPORTANT NOTES***

-We received several reviews mentioning that the mysteries in the prologue were never followed up on. We looked back and realized that you were right. Because of this we wrote **two new scenes in Chp. 2 & 3**, to create a better continuity and sate our beloved reader's apatite.

-We have also gone through all the chapters and **edited the crap** out of them. And you were right in saying that the first few were messy as heck. We were a little ashamed of that. BUT HAVE NO FEAR! We fixed the problems, enjoy if you so wish.

-We would apologize for our absence… but unfortunately, that's life. We are working on being more consistent with our writing, and hope to bring chapters on a more regular basis.

-Additionally, we have updated the blog on our story's site, found at siblingsgrimm .weebly .com (remove spaces).

Enjoy the Chapter.

* * *

Harry sighed, and adjusted his position in a vain attempt at comfort.

After a few disappointing and uncomfortable minutes, he gave up on sleep and let his thoughts drift.

Over the last few days, he had lived in such a level of filth and squalor that he had never before imagined could exist. Even when compared to the cramped cupboard in which he spent most of his childhood, Harry had been completely unprepared for the condition he was now living in.

For the vast majority of the time, he and Dudley stayed in the same general location.

Every five or so hours water would fall from four large spigots, located somewhere on the ceiling above. For the short time that the streams would flow, it was all Harry and his cousin could do to get a few mouthfuls of water before being pushed away by some other thirsty prisoner. Initially, Harry had thought that the periodic flow would help clean things out a bit, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

During the minutes the spigots would flow, water would begin to spread over the floor, mixing with the shit and urine through the large chamber. Located somewhere on the floor were several drains that struggled to drain the filth infested water. Every time the water came, the stink would only worsen as people's excrement was shifted all over the floor and fermented in the slow draining water.

The stink had rapidly become so overpowering and foul that Harry could no longer remember the smell of anything else.

Aside from the water, their only other nourishment came at seemingly random times. Whether this was to discourage resistance, or because their captors could care less, Harry didn't really know. But at random times one of the two main entrances would open and a group of Tentacles would enter the room and throw out some sort of dense bread.

No one either he or Dudley had spoken to had any clue as to what the grey skinned, tentacle-mouth beings were, and so they had come to call them the obvious.

Due to some slow explorations, Harry and his cousin had discovered that the chamber they now occupied was a long rectangle, perhaps a little shorter than a muggle football field, though a quite a bit narrower. In the middle of each of the longer sides was a ramp that sloped upwards to a raised platform where the large entrances to the chamber were found.

After first waking, Harry had thought it odd that not a single person, human or otherwise, would ever venture up to the empty platforms. The first time the Tentacles had visited after Harry had gained consciousness, he had quickly discovered why.

When the Tentacles entered the chamber, Harry and his cousin had been sitting against a wall right next to one of the ramps. Everyone around them struggled to their feet as bright light pierced the dark chamber. With a hand near his eyes, Harry attempted to block some of the light while looking up towards their visitors.

Several figures walked onto the platform. Due to the intensity of the light, Harry struggled to see details, but the figures carried the same guns he had seen before. When two of the people ran towards the creatures, bright red bolts of light quickly slammed into them, searing their exposed flesh. No one moved to help them as their bodies fell to the floor.

Harry had felt a surge of anger at the blatant slaughter and had been preparing to charge the creatures when Dudley had pulled him back. He had quietly told Harry that he had seen the creatures slaughter dozens who had foolishly attempted to attack them. After a little struggle, he had stopped his attempt to charge them, and Dudley had let go of him.

The creatures had waited a few more minutes before other beings behind them began to throw some sort of food into the chamber.

They had acted quickly and were lucky to have grabbed a few morsels among the crazy frenzy for food.

* * *

It had been several days since his first 'feeding', and the Tentacles had returned a few times since them. Once more a few people tried to attack the creatures, a few of the lizard people this time, but they had all been slaughtered.

Since then, everyone kept well away from either of the ramps until the food was thrown out to them.

He and Dudley had been able to grab some food a few of the times but had also come away with an empty stomach on more than one occasion.

Harry had been attempting to get some sleep, but true rest was becoming more and more of a stranger to him.

For the first few days, he had been unable to get any rest, completely disgusted by the conditions he was being forced to live in. But as the hours passed, and as his body was slowly covered with the filth around him, Harry had eventually fallen asleep.

Since then, he had been able to get some form of rest, but he hadn't felt truly rested since he had been thrown into this dump.

Harry slowly rose from his back, moving carefully as to avoid slipping on the slick floor. He glanced around himself, looking for his cousin, and found Dudley a few bodies away from him, still sleeping. It wasn't surprising really. If they weren't being watered or fed, your only options were to sleep or just sit here in this absolute hell hole. It was much easier to sleep.

Managing to get himself in a seated position, Harry looked at the people that surrounded him. Something inside him ached as he looked at them, wanting to reach out and help them in some way. But what was he to do? He was no better off than they. And after the first few days, everyone had lost interest in talking.

After all, what was there to say?

The only change to monotony was the occasional fight or screams in the ever constant night. A group of men had organized themselves into something of a gang, and usually took up a position near one of the ramps. They generally left everyone alone, mostly focusing their efforts on getting food for themselves. But occasionally they would beat up some poor bloke who got in their way.

After seeing this, Harry had attempted to do something with his magic, Statute of Secrecy be damned. But regardless of all of his hand gestured and vain incantations, all he had garnered were a few odd looks from the people around him.

Without his wand, he found that he was powerless.

He thought it was quite ironic really. You could throw the entirety of the wizarding world in this place and only a few could do more than the smallest piece of magic, pureblood and mud blood alike. Harry laughed to himself, he rather enjoyed the thought of seeing Malfoy in this squalor. The ferret would be completely beside himself with fury.

A small grin crossed his face at the thought. The first in quite a while.

He had no real idea of how long they had been imprisoned in the chamber. The only consistent thing that could be measured where how many times the water had turned on. He had attempted to keep count for awhile, but his fatigued mind had eventually lost count.

Exhaustion. That had been his constant companion since waking up in this reached place. It wasn't the lack of true rest that was a problem, rather, the lack of any substantial food source. He couldn't really be sure of how much weight he had lost, but he had seen a drastic difference in his cousin. While taking up boxing had definitely added muscle to his cousin, Dudley had still been far from lean. But since they had been captured Dudley's face had lost its previous ball like appearance, and instead looked rather gaunt, his eyes haven sunken into his face with dark circles now riming them.

Harry closed his eyes and listened to the distant thrumming that could be heard in the background. The deep but faint sound had kept a constant rate in their time in this place. However, after a few moments, the thrumming began to increase to a higher rate.

He paused.

That hadn't happened before.

He listened more intently and noticed that the thrumming was continuing to increase at a fast rate. That was quite odd. As the thrumming reached a rapid pace, Harry heard a series of rapid thumps that broke the silence.

Harry sat, listing for further changes when the entire chamber lurched, and Harry was sent sprawling over the people around him. Shocked, Harry lay dazed for a moment, utterly confused with the turn of events. Cautious of the moaning people underneath and around him, Harry scrambled to his feet, looking for his cousin.

For a second time, the room lurched, sending Harry back to his knees.

Then, with a flicker of the dim lights above, the room shook for a third time.

The thumps he had heard earlier were now sounding over and over, with no apparent pattern. And as Harry once more rose to his feet, the sound of deep thuds began to constantly sound, occasionally accompanied by the sound of shuddering explosions.

The previously quiet chamber had become a stupefying mix of clamoring screams and scrambling forms.

Now thoroughly confused and bewildered, Harry searched for his cousin, deciding they needed to be prepared for whatever was happening. Spotting Dudley's crouched form, Harry stumbled over to him, doing his best to avoid the now screaming people around him. His cousin had clearly just woken up and had the desperate, slightly crazed look that came over someone when they were suddenly jolted awake.

"Harry! What the bloody hell is happening?!"

Reaching out to his cousin for balance, Harry did his best to respond with the increasing intensity of the cacophony around them.

"I'm not sure! At first, it was just this distant thumping noise and next thing I know this whole place began to shake!"

Looking around as if trying to gain his bearings, Dudley responded.

"Do you think the Tentacles are going to kill us or somethin'?"

Harry was about to respond when with a sudden and final lurch, the pounding noise ceased. Alarmed at the sudden change, Harry likewise glanced around, desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

They waited, surrounded by likewise delirious people, listening for a further sound.

After a few minutes, they began to hear faint sounds in the distance. But rather than the deep rumbling sounds from before, these were high-pitched and rapid. After a few minutes more, Harry heard what might have been screams and high pitched screeches.

Harry looked at his cousin, who had a concerned look on his face.

"I think there has been some kind of fight." And then pulling on his cousin's arm he started heading towards the closest wall. "Whatever is happening, I don't think we should be in the middle of the room when things get nasty."

As Dudley nodded, they both moved toward the wall, and then crouched next to it, waiting for whatever was to happen next.

Some time passed, and Harry was beginning to think that things had returned to normal when the entrance on the opposite end of the chamber slid open, letting bright light spill into the chamber.

Harry squinted as several tall figures stepped onto the raised platform, their forms, and stature distinctly different than that of the Tentacles. Harry heard a few commands in a gruff language before one of the figures stepped towards the entrance.

The room was suddenly filled with a bright piercing light where before only darkness existed.

With the sudden blinding light, Harry slammed his eyes shut and let out a surprised yell at the painful sensation now tearing at his retinas. Around him, he heard similar bellows and curses as the mass of prisoner were exposed to the light.

Besides him, Dudley was letting loose a stream of curse words as he vainly tried to protect his eyes from the light.

Harry desperately tried to squint and see past the glaring light to the figures beyond, but it was too much for his unused eyes. Over the clamor of his fellow prisoners, he heard the sound of the entrance closing again. Risking a glance, he was able to see that the people had left.

* * *

Some time passed before Harry could look around.

With his eyes still squinted, and quite a bit of pain, Harry looked around him, taking in the entirety of the room for the first time.

The walls, floors, and presumably the floor were all made of a dull grey metal. The ceiling was at least ten meters above them, though Harry couldn't quite tell from his quick glances up. The room was smaller than he thought, though still quite large for the absolute horde of people that filled it. Harry had known that it was bad, but the sight that met his eyes nearly caused him to vomit before he was able to reign in the impulse.

Hair was matted, and flesh barely visible, every person in the room was covered in a dark slime. The majority of clothes were either torn or completely absent, exposing the terrible condition each and every one of them was in. The majority were thin and stick-like, clearly having starved in this place. What surprised him most were the bodies. Several limp, clearly deceased bodies lay scattered around the room, dead from a variety of causes. But that wasn't the worst of it. A few of the bodies had clearly been cannibalized, with only bone and sinew left.

Unable to contain himself, Harry dropped to his knees and was sick all over the floor. He stayed there for a bit as dry heaves passed through his empty stomach.

He had no words.

Harry looked up once more, and as the sight of it met his eyes, he felt something inside him break as anger and revulsion filled his being. How in the bloody hell could someone do this to another person? What kind of monsters could do this to them?

Kneeling, Harry looked down at himself for the first time in who knows how long and was completely revolted. Like everyone else, he was covered in a thick layer of muck, and his already thin body was now even thinner. His pants could barely be called that, little more than scraps of fabric hanging from his waist.

Distracted as he was by his own thoughts, Harry didn't notice the sound of the entrance until Dudley tapped him and helped him to his feet.

"Their back Harry."

Standing, Harry looked towards the entrance. With the majority of the people around him standing as well, it took a moment before he had a clear look at the people standing on the platform.

They weren't people… Well, they weren't human.

Again, Harry was confronted by another race of creatures that he had never before heard of. Around his height, they were shorter than most of the humans and several of the other beings. Their arms were long and lanky with large nimble hands. Their faces were oddly angular, with odd knob-like protuberances sprouting from the top of their heads. But their strangest feature by far was that instead of having one mouth, they had two. A diagonal slit that along each side of their face.

With a great deal of shouting, one of the creatures stepped forward and gestured towards a man in the front to come forward. When the man didn't move, the creature yelled something again before gesturing forward.

Suddenly, before the man had even stepped forward, one of the lizard people near the ramp rushed forward at the creature. But it hadn't gone but a few steps before a continuous beam of faint purple light lanced through the creature and hit the deck behind it. The light stopped, and the lizard man fell to the ground, a smoking hole in the center of its chest.

When the creature once again yelled and gestured, the man in question stumbled forward, up the ramp. As he reached the top, another one of the creatures came forward and attached what looked like manacles to the man's wrists before another was called up. A set of manacles were placed on the second individual with some sort of cord attaching them to the first set of manacles.

This process repeated until there were about twenty individuals chained in a row. Some human, some not, the creatures seemed to have no preference.

After the group was all chained up, a group of the creatures escorted his fellow prisoners out the door. The process continued to slowly repeat as a chained line would form and then a group of the creatures would come in and escort the prisoners out.

Harry was uneasy. Part of him was thrilled at the prospect of leaving the chamber, even if it was in chains. But the majority of him was slightly scared. Sure these creatures were different than the grey tentacle creatures that had brought him here, but he still didn't recognize them. He didn't know what was going on, but part of him was beginning to fear that Dudley was right.

Part of him knew that something was wrong, that these creatures were not from earth.

—

It took some time before it was Harry and Dudley's turn to join the next group. As he was gestured forward, he proceeded cautiously, unsure what to expect with these new creatures.

Seeing them up close for the first time, Harry saw that they were dressed in some sort of armored robes, with gray rifles of some kind either hanging from their backs or held ready in both hands.

As Dudley was locked in as the last person behind him, six of the creatures formed around them, three on each side of the line. The lead creature jerked the person in front forward, causing their whole line to begin were led from the entrance into a grey metal hallway as the creatures marched alongside, pushing the stragglers forward.

They had gone down several corridors and turns when from a side tunnel Harry heard a high pitched scream as several of the grey tentacle beings rushed out and started to shoot wantonly around them.

With a sudden flash of light, the lizard-man in front of him screamed in agony and fell limp. Harry dropped to his knees, hoping to avoid being likewise fried by one of the passing bolts.

The creatures beside them were quick to respond, their rifles emitting streams of purple light that quickly cut down all but one of the Tentacles. With one of them still firing and screaming like some kind of banshee, the nearest two-mouthed creature dropped and rolled forward, popping up in front of the Tentacle, knocking him backward with a fierce uppercut. The creature exhibited a strength beyond its size and lifted the Tentacle in the air by its clothes.

It spoke with its grating voice, looking fiercely at the grey being in its grasp.

"Eduikl' tkid! Nak arrv ba vai bo'sr ka orkou aiu kouu'kauv aerb vaaekl vlaek 't aiut, dik vai vairb baeuo tkaed it 'r klo daekx vlor vo laeqo dotkob vai 'r ku'aer dv kaddaek? Yai Eduikl' laeqo ra larau."*

And with that comment, he dropped the grey skinned being, took it by the head and wrung its neck. The creature tossed its lifeless body aside and directed its focus towards the line of prisoners. With a few brief commands, the other creatures came forward and removed the manacles from the dead prisoners, leaving them on the floor.

* * *

After a few more minutes of being hauled through the grey halls, the group Harry was chained to passed through a retracting door and entered a cavernous chamber. The ceiling was quite high with a series of catwalks crossing the space and lining the walls.

The first thing that grabbed Harry's attention were the Tentacle bodies thrown in haphazard piles. Most of them with charred holes in their bodies. Along the walls on either side of Harry were rows of aircraft, identical to the one that had captured him and Dudley. He realized that this must be the hanger where they kept their weird planes.

Around the hanger several of the beings stood guard, rifles raised as they watched as Harry and his group were led past them towards the far wall of the hanger. The far wall appeared to be some sort of wide bay door that was closed shut. However, along the door were several large spikes that had pierced the door, with strange arm-like projections pushing against the door, creating the appearance of some barb that had pierced cloth. A ramp of some kind extended down from the spikes, allowing entrance into what Harry assumed were the passages that allowed the creatures to enter.

As they were led toward one of the tubes, an uneasy feeling began to overcome him. Why hadn't the creatures just blasted their way in? What was the point of the spike things?

The two creatures leading their group led them up one of the ramps and paused at some kind of entrance, pushing a few buttons before they continued to lead them through the now open passage. After Harry walked up the ramp and into the passage, he could see a bright light at the end of a mostly dark passageway.

As he shuffled forward, he noticed long, narrow windows that ran along the length of the passage. Curious and slightly desperate to get some idea of where they had been imprisoned, Harry looked out the window, looking up towards the sky.

His eyes were first met by the darkness of night, the stars clear in the sky above them. He hadn't realized it was night, but then again, how would he? Harry let his eyes drift downwards, looking for some kind of identification of his surroundings. But as he looked, the stars didn't end…

Looking down, Harry saw the exact same view that he saw above, the night sky and thousands of stars. For a few moments, Harry's exhausted and malnourished mind struggled to comprehend how the sky was below him, and above him… and then it clicked.

All of the suspicions he had buried, all of Dudley's comments he had thought little of, denying the possibility It suddenly all made sense.

He was in space.

He was in SPACE!

These beings weren't weird magical species… they were aliens. BLOODY ALIENS!

Harry's entire frame was filled with dread and anxiety as the realization swept through him. How had he been so stupid? The creatures had been shooting bloody lasers for Merlin's sake!

He was stuck in space. Captured by hostile aliens. And he didn't even have a wand.

With surges of adrenaline and dread now surging through him, Harry struggled to slow his breathing. Everything from the past few days started to make sense. They hadn't been captured by a plane, they had been abducted by bloody freaking aliens! All of the people, both humans and aliens, they weren't prisoners, they were some kind of slaves. And now some other aliens had just killed the previous aliens and taken them as their own.

Merlin's bloody balls!

He needed to think, this couldn't be happening. He had been shocked when he had been told that magic was real, but Aliens? What sort of weird twist of fate had offed him this time? Seriously? Bloody aliens!

He needed to find a way to get back.

Twisting back slightly, Harry again glanced out the narrow window, this time looking back in the direction they had come from. He was able to make out the grey surface of the ship they had just left. From the little he could see, the ship was fairly large, in comparison to the American space shuttles at least, and was covered in black holes and dark grooves that scarred its surface. He realized that the pounding he had heard earlier must have been the impacts from whatever had carved up the ship's surface.

Harry then looked in the other direction, finding it difficult to catch a glimpse as they were constantly dragged along. But with what he could see, the ship they were about to enter was much larger and better maintained than the one they were leaving. And while he couldn't really make out much of its shape, it was generally a light tan color, with occasional strips of what looked like gold running along the hull.

And then, before Harry could catch another glance, he was dragged through another doorway and into some sort of staging room. As they entered, he could see to his left other entrances that must have led into the remaining boarding tubes. When compared to the hanger they had just left, this room was overflowing with the alien soldiers, rifles still held ready to eviscerate any of the prisoners stupid enough to try something.

Further into the room, and in the middle of the large space, the other slaves had been lined up. Their restraints had been attached to some sort of apparatus hanging from the ceiling, each of the restraints being pulled tight enough to keep the slaves arms high above their heads. As Harry's line was dragged along one of the others, one of the aliens detached their manacles one by one and attached them to some sort of chain that extended to the apparatus above.

After Dudley's manacles had been attached to the arm behind him, all the chains along their line simultaneously retracted upwards pulling Harry's arms to the point which he couldn't move them but was still left standing.

The aliens continued to bring in other lines of prisoners, chaining them up in like manner. And as they did so, Harry watched the aliens with what little focus he was capable of. They were far from silent, quickly barking out commands and orders in some unknown tongue whenever someone fell or did anything other than what they were expected to do.

Eventually, the last of his fellow prisoners were brought in and Harry heard one of the metal doors swoosh open.

Due to the many people stretched around him, many of them taller than him, he wasn't able to catch a glance at the newcomer for a few minutes. Another of the aliens, this one with bright, ornate robes and some sort of tribal looking mask was making his way down Harry's row of restrained prisoners. In the creature's hand, it carried a long stick of some sort which it used to prod and adjust the faces and bodies of the prisoners as it moved along the line. Inspecting them like they were cattle.

Unlike the much longer amount of time the creature had spent inspecting the lizard man ahead of him, when the alien reached Harry it barely glanced at him before moving on.

Maybe it didn't like humans?

After several more minutes, Harry was able to glimpse the ornate alien in the front of their group, standing in front of one of the aliens that had to lead them there.

**(translation below)

"Sado gae'u tvok'dort ka do tiuo, klaisl 'k toodt klo Eduikl' vouo uaeklou uaisl ar klo rak ag klod. Wouo vai aedro ka bokoud'ro vlaek klov 'rkorbob v'kl klo rak?"

"Yot dv Laub Caevkae'r, ae gov ag aiu tarb'out vouo aedro ka doaek 'k aik ag klo'u roaebou. Tlov laeb 'rkorbob ka torr klod ka klo St'-uiiq' Idvou'id gau ae suoaek tid. At vai xrav, klo karb'k'ar ag klo do'rst laeubrv daekkout."

The masked alien beloved in rage before responding to the second.

"Tlo Eduikl' vairb baeuo vaaekl gau klo St'-uii 'r aiu kouu'kauv?!"

"Ik aevvoaeut ta dv Laub Caevkae'r. Arb aekkaub'rs ka klo'u tl'vt rast, klov laeqo door uirr'rs kl't traeqo uaiko gau tado k'do."

Another primal growl escaped the masked alien.

"Haeqo aerr dik ae gov ag klod draetkob aik klo ae'urakx, klov uodae'rbou aeuo ka do duaislk aerars gau 'rkouuasaek'ar. Tl't duoaekl v'rr rak do aerravob aesae'r."

"Og kaiuto, 'k v'rr do baro. Wlaek v'rr vai laeqo it ba v'kl klo traeqot?"

"Haeqo klo itiaert 'rkosuaekob aet vou aiu raudaer doklab. Bik aet gaeu aet klo lidaert aeuo karkourob… vo laeqo ra ito gau klod. Haeqo klod kroaertob aerb vuovaeuob gau kuaertvaukaek'ar. Wo v'rr torb klod ar klo rozk guo'slkou ka Toud'rit ' laeqo ra v'tl ka too klo'u 'rx aedarstk aiu voavro."

"Ik v'rr do aet vai laeqo kaddaerbob dv Laub Caevkae'r."

And with that final comment, the ornately dressed alien left them.

The alien that had been talking to the leader gestured to one of its fellows and let out a few guttural barks.

After a moment, a mechanical hum filled the room as many of the arms above them began to move. The large reptilian alien in front of Harry was suddenly jerked out of line and then dragged at a fast pace along the row towards the front of the chamber. The creature was not alone as all of the nonhuman creatures were brought out of their lines and pulled towards a growing procession.

The lines of aliens were dragged to several openings at the front of the chamber. Harry watched as one by one a door would open and the next alien in the line would be forced through before the door would slide closed behind it.

Behind him, Harry heard Dudley's stuttering voice. "Harry… you don't think they are going to kill us… do you?"

Harry glanced nervously towards the front of the chamber as the last alien prisoners were forced into one of the doors and it slammed shut behind it. If Harry was being honest with himself, he had no idea if they were going to make it to the end of the day.

"I… I don't know Dudley. Though… if they really wanted us dead, they could have just left us to rot where they found us, right?." He swallowed as he glanced towards the five apertures which the aliens and been dragged through.

"They must want us for somethi-" Harry gasped as the butt of one of the alien's rifles was shoved into his side from behind and the alien captor besides him yelled something in his guttural language.

Harry barely had time to gasp in a breath before the mechanical arm holding his manacles began to drag him forward. Struggling for breath Harry stumbled forward, as he struggled for breath. Before him, the remaining prisoners, all human, were pulled forward towards the five doors the others and disappeared through.

One by one they were fed through the doors until Harry found himself standing before one himself. When the woman in front of him had been dragged through, all Harry had seen was a dark chamber before the door had quickly slid shut.

And after a minute of waiting, the doors slide open and Harry was dragged into a dark chamber.

* * *

For a moment, Harry held his breath, waiting for saws or the lasers, or whatever would lead to his sudden death.

Instead, a light turned on and Harry found himself in a small, white room. From above, two mechanical arms reached down and fastened themselves to his wrists while two more arms rose from the floor and fastened around his ankles.

With a whirring click, his manacles were removed and Harry was drawn into the air, the four mechanical arms holding him spread eagle. Behind him, Harry heard some device move and felt a faint tugging before the remains of his tattered clothes fell off his body.

Harry hung there, his weak joints aching, his heart hammering as relief and dread washed simultaneously over him. An alarm blared and a sudden surge of some kind of high pressured fluid sprayed from the top of the room and began to sweep downwards. He was barely able to close his eyes and mouth before the stinging sheet slowly made its way up and down his body, flushing away the grime and filth that had accumulated all over him.

Then, before he knew it, the streams stopped. Harry blinked several times, trying to keep the stinging liquid from his eyes, and spat out some of the acrid liquid that had forced its way into his mouth.

And as he did so, another arm lowered from the ceiling. Unlike the ones holding him in the air, this one had a large, blunt end with several small openings along it. The device approached his chest until it was firmly pressed against his chest so that he could not shimmy away in any way.

From out of the sides of the device, several smaller arms emerged and fastened themselves on his biceps and thighs. Suddenly, he felt something pierce his left bicep, and with growing horror saw his blood flowing down a thin tube into the main machine. But after a moment, the pain stopped, and a whirring sound came from the device pressed against his chest.

A minute or so later, the sound stopped, and Harry felt several needles pierce his flesh along both arms and legs as he was injected with who knows what. And again before he could panic, the pain stopped. For a moment more the machine was silent before the large device detached itself and withdrew into the ceiling.

Then, with another blaring alarm, a door slid open before him, and the four arms carried Harry into a hallway of sorts.

Before him, Harry could only describe what he saw as what looked like some sort of assembly line. Without stopping, the four arms carried him forward, and Harry was put the the mercy of a series of machines that subjected him to the most painful cleaning he had ever experienced in his entire life.

At the end of the human carwash, Harry found himself free of any speck of the slime that had previously covered him, completely bald, and free of all body hair.

And as the four arms set him down before another door, Harry felt something click in place around his neck. He reached up and felt around his neck and found a thick metal band.

A collar.

Bloody Hell

* * *

Translations:

* "Ebruchi scum! Not only do you deign to enter our territory and poach what is ours, but you would dare stab us in the back when we have bested you in trial by combat? You Ebruchi have no honor."

** - "Some fair specimens to be sure, though it seems the Ebruchi were rather rough on the lot of them. Were you able to determine what they intended with the lot?"

"Yes my Lord Captain, a few of our soldiers were able to beat it out of their leader. They had intended to sell them to the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium for a great sum. As you know, the condition of the beings hardly matters to the Ssi-ruuvi."

The masked alien bellowed in rage before responding to the second.

"The Ebruchi would dare poach for the Ssi-ruu in our territory?"

"It appears so my Lord Captain. And according to their ship's logs, they have been running this slave route for some time."

Another primal growl escaped the masked alien.

"Have all but a few of them blasted out the airlock, the remainder are to be brought along for interrogation. This breach will not be allowed again."

"Of course, it will be done. What will you have us do with the slaves?"

"Have the usuals integrated as per our normal method. But as far as the humans are concerned… we have no use for them. Have them cleaned and prepared for transportation. We will send them on the next freighter to Terminus. I have no wish to see their ilk amongst our people."

"It will be as you have commanded my Lord Captain."


End file.
